You'll Find Some One True
by SuicidalAphrodite
Summary: And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."- F. N. Good and Evil are never simple, never concrete. The villain and the heroine often switch places. But when you look closely, you will find truth. See prof 4 full descrip. R
1. Oh1 You Pretty thing!

1YOU'LL FIND SOMEONE TRUE

Chapter 1: Oh! You Pretty Thing!

The crown was cutting off the circulation to her brain. A dark haired girl shoved open the dressing room door and tore the crown from her imaculate up-do. She tossed it onto the counter before her and threw the door shut. She stared at her reflection in the well lit mirrors and glared in disgust. Sarah felt her stomach heave. The girl that stared back at her mad her want to throw something heavy against the glass. She was undeniably pretty, but her smile was too white and wide, her skin too tan, her arms a little too thin. The sky blue evening gown she was squeezed into was a size one, when not quite a year ago she had been a comfortable size five. A white ribbon looped around her chest and under one arm, signifying that she was indeed Miss Richmond. There was so much makeup on her face it was if she were trying to look like a different person entirely. Maybe she was.

As Sarah stared at herself in disdain, she found herself wishing for simpler times. A time before she had agreed, at the advice of her step mother, to take up beauty pageants. It has been nice, at first. Karen, a former pageant winner herself, was thrilled at the chance to bond with her pretty but troubled step daughter. Sarah had found she like spending time with the woman when they were on common ground. Soon, however, the hobby turned into something more like a constant torture. Sarah desperately wanted to pursue acting when she went away to college in the fall. Karen wanted her to aim for Miss Virginia, then Miss America. Sarah knew she didn't have it in her, but Karen was determined.

Sarah sat and began to remove the bobby pins from her hair. Hunger made her stomach burn. She hadn't eaten since breakfast the day before. Although Karen encouraged healthy weight loss, unlike many pageant moms, Sarah found it was sometimes just easier to go with out. The results were more noticeable that way.

Jerking a comb through her heavily hair-sprayed hair, she winced at a missed bobby pin. She set the brush down to dig it out, and it was then that she noticed a pair of black soft leather gloves sitting on the counter next tot her things. Absently, she ceased the search for the pin and picked them up. She rubbed the softness between her fingers, then slowly slid them on. They were snug, but oddly much to long for her fingers. She was hypnotized by them for a minute before she realized what they meant. He had been there.

He was always there, watching, waiting, laughing at her and the unhappy life she had chosen for herself. He was so cruel. She would look out into the audience every nigth and see him there, standing at the back of the room, smirking that smirk of his. He could see right through her, through that fake smile she gave to everyone else, see the self-loathing that burned behind those pearly whites. He could see everything. Her friends would ask if she wanted them to say something, if he was dangerous, but she laughed off their concern. He was harmless, she assured them. That wasn't entirely true. He was the most dangerous person she had ever met, but he would never hurt her. He was the only person she could say that about.

She felt a sudden presence in the corner behind her. "Hello, Jareth."

He stepped into the light, an imposing figure in his grand cape. She no longer found him terrifying.

"Hello darling," he crooned in a voice that was sickeningly sweet. "Rough night? You were crowned though. Must make the pain a bit more bearable." His words had a bite to them, a bitter flavor tangible against her tongue.

"Shut up."

"It amuses me that, while you accept crown after crown from strangers, wolves in sheep's clothing that wish to change you into someone barely yourself, you refuse the one crown offered by the only one who actually cares about you." He seated himself on the counter next to her and gave her a criticizing look

"I'm an adult now Jareth. I can't live in you fantasy world now." She pulled a baby wipe from the box by her makeup case and began to remove her makeup, layer by layer.

"How can you call it fantasy when you know it exists?"

"Are you finished? My parents will be here any second.' She sighed.

"For now. Will I see you tonight then?"

"If you want."

"I always do."

"Suit yourself."

He snatched the crown from it's place on the counter. He examined it, then jumped off the counter. He knelt so his breath was hot on her ear. "This is _nothing_ compared to what I could give you," he hissed, and then he was gone.

Sarah felt her heart go with him, what was left of it anyways.

The sky was dark and ominous over head as Sarah raced towards her car. The beat up Civic, whom she lovingly referred to as Lucy, was in bad need of a paint job, and was the bain of her step mothers existence. She begged Sarah to let her buy her a car worthy of a beauty queen, but Sarah laughed at her. Lucy was merely a beauty queen with out her face on. Her parents had offered to give her a ride, but she had declined, saying she would meet them at the restaurant. They had to pick up Toby anyways.

As she drove, it began to rain. Sarah sighed. It was supposed to be summer. The pavement steamed, as it had been a hot day, though there was no sign of that sun now. Sarah turned down a street into what was called the 'business district.' It was a stretch of worn buildings, once old shops that had now become low income housing. A few shops had stayed, but mostly there were just windows full of For Sale signs.

Sarah parked on the street and got out, making sure to lock her car. She ducked away from the rain and jaywalked to the alley way across from her. Several feet intot he dark corridor was the little hole in the wall café she was so fond of. It was open 24 hours, and the only people that ever went there had been there before. They served the best chi around, and the staff knew Sarah and their other regulars by name. A decrepit red neon sign hung lopsided above the door. It read Fin, and from what Sarah had learned from those damn film students at her soon to be college, it meant 'end.' Perhaps it was appropriate, considering. She loved the atmosphere the most, with darkly painted walls, plush velvet furniture, and candles that burned light into the small corners that the wall sconces could not.

She chose her favorite chair, a burgundy colored one shove in a dark corner. It was the color of the wine they served and didn't card for. Sarah ordered hot tea and sat down to wait. Presently, a familiar face appeared through the door. The woman raised a hand in acknowledgment and Sarah did the same. The woman ordered red wine and came to join her. Sarah gazed at her companion as the woman sat across from her in a chair resembleing her own but in dark forest green. She wore a long leather coat, with a short electric purple dress underneath and black boots that reached above her knees. Her hair was blue-black, and there were sunglasses on her head despite the rain.

"Hello Devon."

"Hello Sarah. How was the pageant?" The woman arched a thin, manicured eyebrow at her. Her eyes were the piercing green that made any man she deemed unworthy of her time back off instantly. Her face was that vicious kind of pretty that made her both sexy and mean looking. Her bone structure was thin enough to make an 80 pound modal jealous.

Sarah took a sip of her tea and laughed. "Your looking at the freshest Miss Richmond."

"Congratulations." Devon said, smirking.

"It was sickening."

The dark haired woman threw her head back in a predatory laugh. The two chatted for a while before Devon leaned forward, her boots hard against the stone floor. It was time to get down to business.

"Well, congrats again, and I'm glad those Barbies didn't poison you." Devon stood and extended her hand. Sarah grinned, shaking it.

"See you around." She replied.

"Next week babe." And Devon was gone, a dark form slipping out the door with 100 dollars in her hand. Sarah heard her motorcycle roar down the street.

"It was only after the woman was gone that Sarah retreated to her corner and opened her hand. The small baggy of powder seemed to glow, it's pure white form blinding. She smiled. This would make an evening with her parents more bearable. She folded the bag into her pocket, downed the rest of her tea, and vanished into the cold.

Standing outside the Olive Garden, Sarah tapped her foot impatiently, glancing around for her parents SUV. She had changed into a simple but elegant and expensive black pantsuit and black heels in the car. The blow she had snorted off the dashboard made the world hazy with rainbow tinges. Her parents were never late, and as annoying as they were, worry crept into her body. Toby was with them. Were they alright? She glanced at the small sterling silver watch, a present from her father, and sighed. The door behind her opened and a young waiter stepped out.

"Miss, your table is ready." He sounded nervous, as if she might turn and slap him.

"Thank you. They should be here any minute. This was their idea in the first place."

He nodded and slipped back inside with an audible sigh of relief. Sarah grumble and glanced at the sky. She could smell the oncoming storm. She checked her watch as Karen's silver SUV pulled in at top speed and squeeled into a parking lot. Her father got out, looking a bit shaken. Karen got out, looking flushed. Toby jumped out and raced towards her. She grunted and laughed as her hit her full force. He was four, but tall.

"Hey sweetie." She ruffled his unruly blond curls and wiped his grimy face. He grinned up at her.

"Mom said you won. I told her you were the prettiest."

"Thank you, sir." She said, laughing.

Karen reached them and smiled apologetically. "Sorry we are late. You father wanted to try one of his famous short cuts, and well, you know how that goes."

Sarah laughed because she did. George Williams was notorious for his short cuts. They never took you where you wanted to go, and you always wound up royally lost in some place you had never been before.

The waiters were overjoyed they had finally come inside. Her father bragged to them about her every chance he got. His little girl was a pageant Queen. Karen beamed. Toby ate fettuccini Alfredo, which her managed somehow to get on his forehead. Finally, things died down. Sarah kissed Toby and said goodbye to her parents. Her head pounded as she hurried for the car.

The house looked the same as it had when she was fifteen. Nothing ever changed in this town. She still had the same neighbors, who still had the same dogs that barked at the mailman. The park where she used to play was still the same. Climbing from the car, she felt the first splash of rain on the top of her head. She rushed inside and up the stairs to her room. It was the only thing that had changed. He old toys were now in Toby's room, except for Lancelot. Band posters covered the walls. To her surprised her room was empty. She had thought he'd be waiting. She glanced around and realized that this was the last place she wanted to be. Then she remembered one of the pageant sisters had mentioned a party at her parents beach house. Sarah changed quickly into a short black cocktail dress. She left her high heels and added an ankle length black coat. She was down the stairs and gone again before her parents had even left the restaurant.

The house was built right on the beach and Sarah could hear the music from down the road. She parked off to the side. A few more lines of blow off the dash board and she was ready to go. She climbed out of the car, tugging her dress back down her thighs. She glanced nervously at the angry ocean as she walked towards the house. The place was packed and Sarah could hardly squeeze through the door. As she entered, a lull fell about the room as people turned to see who came in. The was a whoop from the kitchen, and Sarah laughed as Candy, pageant runner up and friend, jumped off the table she was dancing on and bounded toward her friend.

Candy looped her arm around her friend's waist. "How about a hip hip hurrah for the prettiest girl in town!" Candy led the crowd in a cheer as Sarah turned tomato red. "You bitch," Candy whispered jokingly in Sarah's ear.

"That was so embarrassing,"she hissed at the crazed red head.

"Drink?" Candy asked, tugging her into the kitchen.

"No, gee, I came here to study. Duh." Sarah laughed.

Candy handed her a beer from the well stocked fridge. "Enjoy your self, huh. You never party." Candy grinned a vanished into the crowd.

Sarah wondered out onto the deck to watch the violent ocean and the black sky. She set her beer on the railing and leaned out to feel the breeze. The sliding glass door opened behind her, and Sarah felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to face Seth, a varsity football player a year older than her.

"Hi Seth." She feigned a smile.

"Congrats on your win. Every girl in this house hates you right now."

Sarah took a swig of her beer as she pictured Seth thirty years from now. A beer belly, and a nice shiny bald spot running across his head, his foot ball scholarship going to waste as he sits in his Lazy Boy and collects unemployment. She laughed at the image, and Seth, who though she was laughing at his obvious wittiness, laughed even harder. His toned stomach flexed, as he wasn't wearing a shirt. Sarah knew where this was going, or at least where he wanted it to go. She turned back to the ocean a finished her beer in one gulp.

"Let me getcha another brewsky. Can't let the Queen go thirsty." Without even waiting for a reply, he grabbed her empty bottle and disappeared inside.

Sarah considered slipping away to avoid the obvious direction of this encounter. He wanted in her pants, and that wasn't on her agenda, not him, not tonight, not ever. _I should have stayed home._ Before she could escape, he was back and she was stuck inevitably turning him down.

"Here, drink up." He shoved the beer into her hand.

Sarah turned away and chugged that beer. Soon it was gone too.

"What do you say we head upstairs?" His breath was hot on the back of her neck. He reeked. Sarah cringed as his hands slid down her shoulders and caressed her waist. She shoved him off.

"Seth, thanks but no thanks. I just don't think so." She turned to walk away, but the room spun and she stumbled. She caught her self on the railing, and Seth was at her side, his arm under hers.

"Let's go find a bathroom. Looks like party girl has had a little too much to drink."He led her into the house.

"Seth, really, I am fine." But she wasn't. She couldn't even stay upright. What was going on? She had only had two beers.

Seth had her upstairs in record time. She pulled away and collided with the wall. She leaned against it.

"Seth, I am not going to puke. You can go now." The hard-on under his jeans made him seem untrustworthy.

"I think I'll stick around until I am sure you are alright." But he was coming closer, and the look in his eyes said he wanted to do more than hold her hair back.

He had her pinned to the wall before she could think. The room swirled and it was turning black. He was sucking on her neck, slipping her jacket off. Sarah groaned, and that was when she saw the figure come up the stairs behind Seth. The figure ripped Seth away and tossed his against the opposite wall like a rag doll. Sarah gasped as she was suddenly swept off her feet.

She tried to struggle, but the dark form held her firmly and carried her down the stairs. She heard people go quiet around her, and then she was out side, the salty air rushing over her. Then it went black.


	2. With or Without You

1Chapter 2: With or Without you:

A Goblin King does not vomit. He would never do something so undignafied as kneel with his head in a toilet. With Sarah, he discovered, this was not the case. She had been wretching rather violently for the past 15 minutes, and try as he might to tell her it was her own damned fault, he couldn't help but feeling sorry for her. That the gods her parents were sound sleepers.

Sarah finally emptied her stomach and wondered groggily back into her bedroom to find the Goblin King gazing out her window. He turned as she entered and gave her a disapproving look, shaking his head. She glared.

"What? I didn't ask you too come to my rescue, so don't look at me like that."

"Well, perhaps I wouldn't have had to if you hadn't snuffed so much of that powder up you little nose. I'm surprised you even have a face left."

"You can leave now." She sat on her bed and glared at him.

"Nope. I'm staying until I know you won't put any more toxins in your body." He sat on her window sill and folded his arms in defiance.

"Fine, suit yourself." She undressed, ignoring him and climbed into bed. The Goblin King politely looked away from her bare skin.

Sarah lay there, not sleeping. The Goblin King sat, unmoving, staring out the window. Finally, she fell asleep. It was then that Jareth stood and padded softly to the edge of her bed. He knelt to brush the long dark hair from her face and pull the covers up. He gazed at her finally peaceful face. His poor babe, what could he do?

Karen reminded her o a hawk guarding prey. The woman had not stopped discreetly watching her since she had come down the stairs. Sarah was slowly but surely eating the first meal she had had in days. She had managed to not eat a single thing at dinner the night before. She didn't want Karen to realize she hadn't been eating again. Finally, Sarah had had enough.

"Karen, if you have something to say, say it. Quit pretending that those scrambled eggs you are making are the most interesting thing ever." Sarah took a long drink of her orange juice.

Karen turned and ace her step daughter. "Fine. Did you come home drunk last night?"

Sarah laughed because she could not resist. "No, I wish. I got food poisoning from something I ate yesterday. No big deal."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not." But she was.

"Okay, fine, I am going to believe you because I want to. Please don't make me regret that." Karen went back to her eggs, adding shredded cheese and diced red peppers.

Footfalls on the stairs made Sarah turn. Her favorite person in the world stood, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Toby came into the kitchen and sat in the chair next to Sarah's.

She ruffled his hair. "Good morning, sleepy head."

"Morning." He yawned. Karen set a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of him. "Thank you mommy."

Sarah smiled and turned back to her breakfast. But her mind turned to a day, three years ago, when she had nearly lost her little brother. This inevitably led her mind to the Goblin King, and the first day she had seen him after she had defeated his Labyrinth. It had been the evening of her 16th birthday. She had said good bye to her party guests, and, arms loaded down with cards and presents, she stumbled to her room, only to find him waiting for her. Sarah had dropped her arm load and gaped open mouthed at the King.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to give you a gift, that is all. It is your birthday, is it not?" He stood from where he perched on the sill.

As he walked toward her, she backed up until she was against the door and could back up no further.

"Sarah, I mean you no harm." He held out his hand, presenting a crystal that shined so brightly, every thing else around her seemed dim by comparison.

Sarah was awed by it, but her hand was shaking and she chose not to reach for it.

"Take it. I brought it or you." He held his hand out further, his eyes pleading.

She took it, eyeing him. He smiled Sarah stared at his face, for it was the first genuine smile she had seen from him. She found herself smiling too, for his was infectious.

They sat, he on the sill once again, her on the edge of her bed.

"Sarah, you defeated and humiliated me, but you put your brother before your own desires and dreams. You gave him the chance to experience his own some day."

"I love him."

"That is why I have come back, Sarah. I want to take you with me. To the Underground. I know you want to be there, with me." His eyes were serious, their intensity a tangible weight against her own.

Sarah gulped. "What makes you think that I want to give up my life here for anything you have to offer?"

He cocked his head to the side, a pensive look on his handsome face. "I'm wrong then?"

"I never said that."

"Sarah, don't play games. Which is it?" he asked.

Sarah didn't answer. She sat, deep in thought. The King sighed, and finally he stood. Sarah looked up as he turned and pushed the window open.

"I'll leave you to think it over." He leapt forward, out the window.

With a yelp, she dashed to the window and peered out. All she saw was a large white out vanishing on the moonlit horizon.

It hadn't stopped there, she thought to herself. He had kept coming. Ever since, they had been some sort of, well, friends. In fact, he was probably her best friend, despite his constant torturing, she could tell him anything. She suspected that maybe he loved her, as much as a Goblin king could love, and maybe she loved him too. He had offered her the world once, and she had denied him. Now, it had become a standing offer, whenever she was ready. Would she ever be ready? Could she really leave behind her family for a life in a place she had convinced her self didn't exist? She never even called on Hoggle or Ludo any more. It had been two, maybe three months since she had seen them. She used to call them every week. What had changed?

Sarah knew what had changed. She didn't like to think much about it, but it burned across her memory like a brand. When Sarah was 17, she had been rummaging through her fathers desk, looking for stamps. She had come across a tan folder with her mothers name, Linda Williams, written across the tab on the top. Upon opening it, she discovered her mother's medical files. As Sarah read them, she became increasingly alarmed. Her mother had had a history of mental illness; she had been manic depressive most o her life. Sarah then found the coroners autopsy report from her mothers death when she was 12. Sarah nearly bit through her tongue. Her father had told his little girl that her mother had died in a car crash when a drunk driver hit her. This, however, was not the case. Linda, had in fact killed herself. She took all her medication at once and rented hotel room, where she drowned in the bathtub.

Things were never the same after that. George was angry at her for going through his things. Sarah hated him for the lie which he had gone to such great lengths to keep real. He had had the news paper leave the cause of death out of the obituary. After the supposed car crash, Sarah had never seen her mother's Mustang ever again.

Slowly, and with forced progress, Sarah and her father tried to rebuild their relationship. But Sarah still harbored a certain hate for him. He had lied to her for five years. She was knocked out of her reverie by Karen's voice. She looked up, as if out o a daze, and realized Karen had been trying to get her attention for some time.

"What?"

Karen rolled her eyes. "Welcome back for the millionth time. What time is the pageant luncheon tomorrow?"

"Noon, the time most people eat lunch." Sarah gave her mother a withering look.

Karen frowned and sat at the table, eating her eggs. "Well, we will need to go shopping later. You need a new dress suit."

"I have plenty of dress suits, Karen, I'm sure the committee won't mind that I have wore them already." Sarah hated Karen or her trivial mind. Did that woman ever look past appearances? Had she any idea what was out there in the world? After all, things weren't always as they seemed.

Karen looked at her. "Sarah, if you weren't going to try, then why did you even do the pageant?"

Sarah scooted her chair back. She put her plate in the sink and turned, walking towards the stairs. She began to climb them, much to the infuriation of her step mother.

"Sarah, don't you dare walk away from me when I am talking to you! Sarah!" Karen slammed her hand on the table.

But Sarah did just that, climbing the stairs to her room and locking the door. She wanted to move out. Tears stung her eyes, which made her angry. How dare she let that stupid woman make her cry. She collapsed against the wall and sank down to the floor. The tears came, and she let them. She thought briefly how glad she was that no one was here to see them. That was soon spoiled.

"And you still refuse to leave. She doesn't own you. No one can ever own you, Sarah."

Wrong again. Why was he here? "Don't you have a kingdom to rule or something?" She wiped the salt water from her face and glared at him.

Jareth chuckled. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone that big tough Sarah cried. It's against my nature to tell secrets. But really, pet, you should get away. Let me take you to the Underground. You can rest where no one can find you. You can come home whenever you are ready."

Sarah looked up at him, and found herself thinking or a bit. "Fine, I will go away. But I decide when and where. I am not ready for that place yet. You may accompany me if you wish, but I shudder to think who will watch your kingdom while you are gone."

He had the grace to look disappointed before his face broke into a grin. "Fine then, where shall we go?" He beamed at her, obviously pleased to have been invited along.

"I don't know yet. Come back later and I'll tell you. Come back tonight and I'll have made my decision."

He bowed. "As you wish." And he was gone, in his usual puf of smoke and glitter. Sarah coughed it from her lungs and stood.

So she was off to ind her self. This would be, if anything, interesting to say the least.

Sarah opened her eyes to ind her gaze equal with someone else's. She nearly screamed, but Jareth managed a hand over her mouth. She sat up, fighting him off.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed.

He stood, trying to look imposing. "It's nearly nine o'clock. You fell asleep and I grew tired of waiting. Where are we going?"

She frowned at him. "I don't know, I fell asleep, remember?"

Jareth frowned back. "Well if you don't think of some where soon, I will whisk you away to the Underground and keep you there until I see fit."

She laughed. "You can't do that. I have to wish myself there of my own free will."

He knelt over her so that his face was very close to hers, his breath warm on her cheek. "Sarah, I am the King, I can do what ever I want. It is what I choose not to do that makes the rules."

Sarah gulped but stared back defiantly. "Well, I would prefer if you didn't. Besides, my aunt has a cabin on the lake. It's remote but within walking range of a small general store. I don't think she'll mind if I use it. Maybe she is still awake." Sarah rolled away rom him off the other side of the bed and ran down the stairs to grab the cordless phone.

"Damned shrew," Jareth muttered to him self. He sat in her chair and propped his feet up on her vanity. When Sarah came back, she shut the door, locking it, and turned to look at him in annoyance. She then preceded to dial her aunt's number.

The phone on the other end rang and rang, and she considered hanging up, but then a laughing woman answered the phone.

"Hello?" Her laugh was high and infectious, and though Sarah smiled, she felt a pang in her chest at it's familiarity.

"Hi, Aunt Di?" She tried to keep the nervousness out of her voice.

"Yes? Who's this?"

"It's Sarah!"

"Oh my god! Sarah, my darling, how are you? Hang on a moment." Sarah heard she shhh the voices in the back ground. "Hush, hush, it's my niece."

"Are you busy? I can call back."

"No, no, of course not. I haven't spoken with you in ages. I was just having a small dinner party with a few associates from the gallery. Hang on, I'll pick it up in the other room."

Sarah waited until her Aunt picked the phone up again. "So tell me, how is your life? What have been up to?"

Sarah laughed. "Nothing really. Just more of Karen's pageants. I'm the newest Miss Richmond."

"Congratulations darling. That is fantastic! Thank god you got your mothers looks! But my girl, while the late call? Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes, everything is fine. I just, I wanted to know if you still had that cabin on the lake? The one we used to stay at when I was a kid."

"Why yes. I could never give that place up. Though it does cost me a small fortune. Why do you ask?"

"I was wondering if I could go stay at it, you know, for a week or so. Summer's here, and I just need to get out o this house for a while and not have to look in a mirror." She laughed nervously.

"Of course you can! The old place could use some company. I haven't been able to get up there in quite a while."

"I could pay you-"

"Nonsense! You are my blood, girl. But she could use a bit of fixing up. I'll tell you what: stay there free of charge, and just ix it up a bit for me. New shutters, maybe some paint. There is a gardening shed out back that should have most of what you need, and what ever isn't there you can put on my tab at the general store."

Sarah laughed. "Well, I don't know if I'd fix it or the better, but I will definitely try."

"Excellent. When shall I expect you. You'll have to stop by for the key, and to see me of course."

"I'll leave tomorrow morning around six. So I should be there by nine."

"Perfect. See you then."

The phone clicked off, and Sarah turned to the Goblin King. He was grinning at her. "What?"

"Nothing, really, I just haven't seen you smile like that since, well, since a very long time."

Sarah reused to let his teasing spoil her mood. She threw her hands up. "I can't believe I'm really leaving! Oh, Karen is going to be so pissed!" she shouted gleefully and flopped on her bed, rolling around. Then she jumped up rather frantically. "Shit, I have to pack!"

Jareth sat watching her run about, amused and hiding a smile behind an elegantly gloved hand. Finally, she ceased her frantic rummaging to look at his in puzzlement.

"What are you still doing here? Don't you have to go pack or something?"

"I can conjure anything I need for the trip. I have put some very loyal subjects in charge. I even hired Didymus to teach the goblins how to fence. It will keep them out of mischief while I'm gone."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that I plan to stay here tonight and leave with you in the morning." He stood and walked to her.

Sarah was suddenly very aware of the closeness of his very being. He reached and brushed strand of hair out of her face. She turned away and continued to pull things rom her dresser, silently wishing her pounding heart would just cease all together.

Sarah refused to let him know how happy it made her that he was staying. "Suit yourself."

"Oh, I always do."

His voice behind her made her choke back a laugh. He was so cocky, so arrogant and sure of himself. But then again, if anyone had a right to be, it was him. He was so beautiful, the way no other could ever be. It was cold, calculating beauty, the kind that made you painfully aware of your own imperfections. He was flawless in every way, like no other man she had ever met, and yet, Sarah had never attempted to make love to him. She had never flirted or teased, the way she did other attractive and utterly smitten boys. With him, it was different. He was to beautiful, to good for her. Next to him she was ugly, imperfect. She did desire him, but never let on. She wondered if he desired her. It didn't matter really. He would never breech the boundaries they had silently laid out. Not unless she did first.

She turned to find him lounging on her bed. "And what do you think you are doing?"

"Why, I'm getting ready to sleep. And you?"

"Oh no you don't. You sleep on the floor."

He sat up, looking rather alarmed. "Sarah, a Goblin King cannot sleep on a floor. I have to sleep here." He flopped back and closed his eyes.

Sarah grumbled. She shook her head. He was not going to bother her, not tonight. She climbed into bed, under the covers and rolled as far away from him as she could. He chuckled.

"Sarah, I promise not to bite."

She reached up and turned out the light. "It's not the biting I am worried about."


	3. A Carsick King makes for a Crappy Compan

1Okay, so this is a bit of a short chapter. I just wanted to get something out there for those of you that are reading, so you didn't think I was crapping out. Thanks to those that have commented and added this story to their alert. I apologize for any grammar or spelling errors that I or my spell check have missed. I have already written this story almost half way through, and am posting the new an revised edition. So some stuff gets over looked in the process of adding new ideas to old ones and getting them to work on paper. Again, thank you for reading and I hope you continue to do so and enjoy this tale.

-Disclaimer: I don't own the Labyrinth. I'm sure you new that already.

Chapter 3: A Carsick King Makes for a Crappy Companion:

The alarm was a disturbance at 5:30 in the morning. As Sarah reached over to

turn it off, she cursed herself for committing to this early rise. She sat and turned toward the odd rumbling next to her. Did the Goblin King snore. She put a hand to her mouth to suppress a giggle. There had been a time she doubted he even slept, let alone snored. He seemed much more human now than he had when she'd met him. Looks, however, are often quite deceiving.

Climbing from the bed, she opened the door softly and closed it behind her. She padded down the hall and stopped to listen. The whole house was quiet, her father having left for work, Karen snoring away in the master bedroom. Toby would be far off in dreamland. She grabbed towels from the hall closet and locked her self in the bathroom.

A hot shower and a pair of jeans later, she opened her bedroom door to find the Goblin Kind examining him self in her full length mirror. He was clad in dark blue jeans and a black button down dress shirt. His long slender feet looked odd in hiking boots. She let out a small laugh and he turned abruptly to give her hurt look.

"No, no," she held up her hands apologetically. "You look good. I'm just glad your not in a sweatshirt. I don't think I'm ready for that yet, not this early in the morning. You look just fine, I promise." She hid a smile as she stuffed the rest of her stuff into her suitcase.

Jareth puffed up, as usual, and preened like a parrot, smoothing his shirt and fluffing his hair. Sarah stopped and looked at him, sighing.

"About that. We, well, we just can't leave your hair like that."

"No, cutting it."

"Deal."

She obtained her father's hair gel and, 15 minutes later, had the King's hair down and back in some sort of suave yet subtle pony tail fastened at the base of his neck. She thought it looked rather dashing. Jareth, on the other hand, looked positively nauseous upon seeing his reflection. For once, though, he kept his mouth shut. Sarah shook her head, laughing to herself, and hoisted her suit case, leaving the King to puzzle over his new do. She went quietly down the stairs and out the kitchen door to the side driveway where she had parked. After loading her suitcase into the back seat, she went back inside.

Sarah started a pot of coffee and dug the families' camping thermos out of the cupboard. She pour the steaming black concoction in and sealed the lid. Jareth came down the stairs behind her, nose twitching at the odd smell. After all, he had never had coffee before. He looked around with disdain and then disappeared onto the porch.

Sarah rolled her eyes. She looked around and located a pen and a sticky note. She wrote Karen, letting her know that she would be gone a week and would resume her pageant duties upon her return. She smiled at the thought of Karen's face when she saw the note, which Sarah stuck to the luncheon reminder Karen had posted on the fridge. She gave the house one last look, wished she could have said good bye to Toby, and slipped outside.

She grinned to find Jareth examining the car in puzzlement. She opened her door and wedged the thermos between the seats. She then went around and opened his door for him. He looked at her, an eyebrow raised.

"Well..." she gestured. "Get in."

He frowned at her, and climbed very daintily into the seat. His legs were folded up, quite uncomfortably. She reached down and pulled the lever, moving the seat back to give him room. Jareth jumped, knuckles white on the dashboard. Sarah snicked and shut the door, walking around to climb in the drivers seat. Once in, she buckled, and then reached across him to fasten his seat belt as well. He tugged at it and glared at her.

"What in bloody hell-"

"It will keep you from flying through the windshield if we crash."

"Crash what?" came the forlorn response from the passengers seat.

Sarah turned the key, and Jareth started at the grumble of the engine. He gripped the side of the door and glared at her. Sarah giggled and backed out of the driveway. As she drove, she rolled down the window, sticking out her hand to feel the chilly morning air. It was slightly damp, refreshing, and full of promise. Shivering with anticipation, she accelerated, ignoring the grunt from a certain nervous King, and sped down the road. Feeling truly happy for the first time in a long time, Sarah smiled.

Yawning and stretching her hands above her head, Karen treaded drowsily down the stairs. The kitchen clock read seven AM. Her husband was long gone to work, and her sun still in bed until nine. And Sarah, lovely yet confusing Sarah. Karen saw a lot of her self in her step daughter. That girl had dreams bigger than any atmosphere in this universe. Karen remembered what it was like to be that young, that blind to how cold the real world was. She herself had wanted to be a singer, but had soon been knocked into reality by her strict father. Now, she was a homemaker with a business degree that sat on a shelf, gathering dust.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she walked to the coffee pot and reached for it. Gasping, she drew her hand away as the burn died down. Why was it hot? Karen looked around and noticed a piece of paper stuck to the fridge. She walked over and yanked it off. As her blue eyes scanned the scrawny penmanship, anger crawled through her. Her face reddened, and adrenalin pulsed through her veins. She would kill that girl. Infuriated, she whirled to yank down the cordless phone. Hastily dialing a number, she waited.

"Yes, George Williams please. Yes, yes, this is his wife."

Sarah pulled the car to a stop against the curb, taking a deep breath. Her nerves had been on edge ever since she had entered her aunts neighborhood. She hadn't seen her Aunt Diana since her mothers funeral. She had spoken top her on the phone a few times, but it seemed her father had tried, and suceeded, to distance her from anything that might remind her of her mother.

So, Sarah sat, staring at her aunt's house, with it's sky blue paint and sunny yellow trim. It look as if it were out of a magazine, with it's manicured lawn nearly overrun with flowers.

Jareth cleared his throat. He had had just about enough of this metal contraption. "Well, you are welcome to sit here all day long. I for one, am going inside."

He opened his door, after mush frustration, and sprung out. He stumbled, stretching his limbs. Sara groaned and opened her door. Climbing out, she too stretched and glanced around. It was about 9:15 AM and the houses around her were quiet. Sprinklers clicked in circles, spraying some of the yards in a fine mist. A paper boy trailed lazily down the side walk on his bike, throwing rolled papers half-heartedly at front porches. Taking a breath, Sarah made her way up the walk to the front deck.

Aunt Di met them on the porch, her hands in the air, a smile on her face. Sarah choked back a startled cry, for the woman before looked so much like her mother that it made her feel faint.

"Come in, come in!" She ushered them inside.

The house smelled of cinnamon and something heavier, probably incense. Diana was a vision in a draping yellow silk dress with small blue and pink flowers embroidered along the fabric. It reminded Sarah of a kimono. Diana swept through the house to the kitchen, arms waving in expression as she gave them the quick tour. Once in the kitchen, she filled the tea kettle, continuing on about the gallery and some art dealer from New York that had fallen in love with her work.

She turned, and her amber eyes fell upon Jareth. "Well, where are my manners. Sarah, you didn't tell me you were bringing your, well, your friend along."

Sarah smiled nervously. "Er, well, yes, this is my good friend, ah, Jared."

Jareth raised a brow at her before stepping forward to take her aunt's extended hand. Instead of shaking it, as Diana expected, he brought it to his lips and gently kissed the smooth skin on the back. "I am Jared. You are just as beautiful as Sarah described." He pronounced the 'd' at the end of his name with such ferocity that Sarah had to swallow a laugh. He hated it, but his real name invoked suspicion in anyone.

Diana was instantly won over, however, and didn't seem to notice the bite at the end of his words. "It's wonderful to meet you."

He stood to his full height and gently let her hand fall. "The pleasure is all mine," he purred.

Diana swallowed visibly, and Sarah rolled her eyes. Her aunt shook her head as if to clear it. "How about some toast and blackberry jam? I made it. I'll bet the two of you haven't had breakfast yet."

"I'll help you," Sarah said abruptly.

Jareth sat gracefully in one of the kitchen chairs. He watched with amusement at the obvious points that defined them as blood. The way they laughed and tossed their hair as they spoke to each other. They way their hands moved and the lilt of their voiced. Even the physical resemblances were uncanny. The long chocolate brown hair, which Diana had tinted red, and the dark eyes flecked with gold. If her mother had been standing with them, they would have seemed three sisters. Diana's eyes, nearly all amber-gold, Sarah's dark, but with golden light, and Linda's dark bottomless eyes. Linda's eyes had been the darkest of all. They could swallow you, he remembered fondly. Jareth shook the memory from his head. Instead, he observed the way the two present women interacted, the careful yet warm way they danced around the kitchen, preparing the toast. The 'Phelix the Cat' clock ticked 9:45. Jareth noticed the thorned vine tattoo that wrapped it's way up her wrist. She was glamourous in an undefined way, like a gem undiscovered except for the lucky few that fell across the chance to meet her. Jareth liked her, for she was a genuine personality, a trait that seemed strong with this blood line. Besides that, she made Sarah beam with a joy he so rarely saw her display anymore. For that, he was greatful to her slightly eccentric aunt.

Diana turned to face him, poised over the toaster. "Jared, I'm so sorry, so you even like blackberry jam? If you don't, I have strawberry, though it isn't home made."

"I adore blackberries." There he was, purring again.

Sarah, who stood behind her aunt, made a face at him. He was behaving rather oddly. She had a feeling this was her payback for the three hour car ride with no stops. She covered her mouth with her hand so as not to call him a scallywag, for that was the first thing that popped into her head.

The tea and toast was set out on the table, and the three settled to their breakfast. The conversation was light, consisting mostly of Sarah asking about her aunt's art, mostly glass sculpture and oil painting, and Diana answering and smiling. Sarah caught her up on all the pageant news. Diana made it quite clear she didn't care much for Karen, and considered the woman to be exploiting her niece. Sarah smiled, but chose not to speak, ill or otherwise, of her step mother.

10:30 brought the visit to the close, and Diana slipped the key to the cabin to her niece.

"Have fun, but not to much. If you need anything, call the general store and they'll send someone."

She waved them off with tears forming at the bottom of her eyes. Sarah waved out her window as they drove away.

"Lovely woman. Smitten with you, I must say." Jareth seemed much more relaxed now as he stared out his window.

"Yes, well, I'm sure she's as smitten with you now as she's ever been with me." Sarah smiled, shaking her head.

"Natural charm, what can I say?"

"Oh, I could say plenty, but I'm trying to be more of a lady these days."

The King snickered. "We'll see about that."

_Yes, _she thought, _we shall see. _


	4. A Breath of Fresh Air

Authors Note: Sorry it took me so long to get this out. ducks tomatoes I just got my internet back. Anyways, I don't own The Labyrinth, or Bowie, just the plot and o.c.'s.

Chap. 4: A Breath of Fresh Air:

The small car bumped and wobbled along the winding river road. Gravel sprang up from under the tires and bounced to the side of the road. Jareth clutched the side of the door and took a deep, haggard breath. The windows rattled about him and he was jostled about quiet erratically. Sarah ignored him, eyes to the road, off in her old world as she absorbed the scenery. He tried to glare at her, but she was so obviously pleased that he couldn't bare to see a moments sadness on her perfect face.

Finally, the cabin fell into view as the trees pulled away around the lake and the rived feeding it. Sarah squealed in delight and sped up. Jareth lurched forward and groaned. She brought the car to a jerking halt and flung the door open, jumping out. Racing towards the house, she through her arms in the air and spun around, whooping like some bizarre jungle beast. Jareth raised a brow as he climbed out of the car much more slowly than she. She couldn't help but smile and she danced around.

"It's perfect! Isn't it perfect? It's beautiful! Oh my god, I can't believe we did it! We are here!" She twirled around. Then she doubled over with wicked laughter. "Karen is going to be so mad at me!"

Jareth stretched his limbs slowly and carefully as he took in the house. A porch covered the front of the house, wind chimes and various other objects adorning it. The windows, at least the front ones, were distorted glass purposely made bubbled and imperfect. The white paint definitely needed touching up, as well as the bark blue trim. The door was dark blue to match with distorted glass in decorative paines at the top. An unlatched metal screen door thumped gently in the light breeze. The was a small shed off to the left, painted to match the house, and a boat on a trailer chained to a metal loop in the ground.

Sarah came up to him, panting ever so slightly from her crazed dance, and grinned up at him. "What do you think?"

He considered all sorts of smart ass answers, but again, he was so pleased to see her so thrilled, that he found himself being nice. This was surprising to both of them. "It's lovely, Sarah. Really."

Her grin widened. "Honestly?"

"Sarah, you must learn to trust my word. I would never mislead you."

She looked at him, studying him carefully. "Yes, well, that wasn't always the case."

"Well, things are different now. We are different people."

She laughed, eyes drinking in the lake, heart light. "No, you are still the same cruel being you have always been. I just know how to handle you now."

"And I you," he said, refusing to miss a beat.

Sarah rolled her eyes. She grabbed her bag out of the back seat and, slinging it over her shoulder, walked up to the house and unlocked the door. Jareth followed, smirking. She pushed the door open, and it made a popping sound, like the breaking of a seal. It reminded Jareth of a tomb, except for the light that flowed forth through the door. Sarah stepped in and gasped. The ceiling was a span of sky lights that stretched from one side of the living room to the other. The air hung about them, still and undisturbed. They both seemed reluctant to move, as if disrupting it would ruin the spell that had fallen over them. Sarah smiled, and with a deep breath, moved forward through the house.

Jareth stood, absorbing the atmosphere. Sarah vanished into the bedroom, throwing her bag on the floor of the bedroom. She collapsed on the bed. She closed her eyes and let the breath out of her lungs. Something shifted near her, and a presence stronger than any other came upon the room. She opened an eye to see the King slouching in the door way. Well, not slouching so much as leaning in a relaxed manner. Goblin Kings don't exactly slouch.

"Want to go for a swim?"she asked, expecting him to decline. She couldn't picture him doggie paddleing about in the water.

"If you wish."

"Okay, well go so I can change and then we can head down to the lake. Maybe even take the boat out later." The day was full of possibilities.

He nodded and wondered away to allow her the privacy to change. When he returned nearly twenty minuted later, she was asleep, mouth slightly open. He held back a laugh and pulled the comforter over her. She turned to go, glancing back at her before he slipped out side into the sun.

Sarah awoke to a soft yellow glow falling over her face. She blinked and looked around, disoriented, until she realized where she was. The bedroom curtains were open and the late afternoon sun gleamed in. Birds chirped and warbled out side. Besides that, though, there was no noise. No traffic, no people, nothing. Smiling to herself, she through back the comforter and climbed from the bed. Upon entering the living room, she found it empty; the Goblin King was no where in sight. Sighing, she was surprised to find she was happy to have a little time to herself. She went into the kitchen and searched the cupboards. They would need to hit up that general store tomorrow. She did, however, find peanut butter, and there were bananas in a bowl on the table. She decided on peanut butter and banana sandwiches, which she wrapped in paper towels and took outside. _Okay, if I were a Goblin King, where would I be?_

She found him, back to her, sitting on the dock that stretched out into the lake. His feet were folded beneath him, which didn't surprise her since she couldn't really picture him dangling them in the water. Wordlessly, she sat beside him. It was useless to try to sneak up, considering he had probably heard her the moment she climbed out of bed.

She offered the sandwich, and he looked at her, eyebrow raised.

"Take it. It's good."

He did. "Since when do you eat?" he asked with a cruel smirk as he unwrapped the sandwich and examined it.

"Nice try, but you are not ruining my day. What do you think?" she asked as she watched him gingerly bite into the sandwich.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "This is good. I have to admit I am impressed."

Sarah grinned at him and laughed. She just couldn't get over how funny he looked eating a sandwich.

The two ate in silence. The sky was just turning orange ast eh sun began to make it's first preparations for sleep. Sarah shivered as a breeze slithered across the back of her neck.

"How about that swim?" she asked.

"Hmmm. And what do most mortal men wear when they swim?"

Sarah was tempted to tell him to conjur a speedo, but decided the wrath wasn't worth it. "Swim trunks."

He looked at her.

Rolling her eyes, Sarah stood up. "Just so happens I brought you a pair. Come on."

Sarah jogged up to the house, leaving Jareth to follow at a slower pace, mumbling about stupid mortals and their stupid hobbies. Sarah reached the house and went in, swing the screen door behind her. She rummaged through her suit case, pulling out the trucks just as Jareth entered. She held up the bright red pair for him to see.

He glared.

"What?"

"They're rather short."

"They're supposed to be."

"Well, do you have anything else?"

"You could always swim naked." She raised a brow at him, an expression that so commonly graced his face.

He mimicked her look. "Nice try."

She through the shorts at him and whirled off into the bedroom, shutting the door rather loudly. She changed quickly into her bathing suit and opened the door as Jareth stepped out of the bathroom, still fully dressed, the trunks thrown over his arm. Sarah looked at him, puzzled.

"I can't. I apologize."

"What are you going to swim in?"

He shrugged. Sarah sighed. She was glad her swim suit was a modest one; a simple black one piece. She turned and went out onto the porch. He followed her, dropping the trunks on the couch. Sarah jumped off the porch and grinned up at him.

"Race ya?"

"No, thank you."

Her grin became a glare, and she turned on her heel and dashed down the path, to the dock's end, where she flung herself into the water. Jareth laughed as he followed at a much slower pace, and came to the end roaring with laughter as Sarah came up howling from the cold. She noticed him and silenced her squealing.

"Come on in, the water's fine." Her tone was a sarcastic one.

"I can see that. I think, however, that I will take my chances on this dock."

"Coward."

She giggled as he visibly puffed up. "Do I smell a challenge?"

"I would never dream of challenging you." The look in her eyes suggested otherwise.

Wordlessly, the look in his eyes daring, he lifted his arms and stripped off his shirt. Sarah swallowed, a strange feeling rising in her stomach as she watched his lithe body shift before her. He was so long and lean, so very pale, yet muscular and controlled. He reminded her of a tamed beast, or at least a caged one; seemingly friendly, but never completely subdued, and always very dangerous. Suddenly, the perfect line of his body was airborne, and he sailed with exact form through the air, above her. He dove, and the water parted for his perfection. He slid beneath it like he was born from it, and then he was gone, and silence shivered around her.

Sarah looked around, treading water and calling his name. Minutes passed, and panic rose in her gut. Had he hit his head? Just as she began to think he had surely died, something tweaked her toes from under the water, and he rose in front of her, laughing.

"How long can you hold your breath?" she exclaimed, anger and relief sweeping through her.

"As long as I wish."

He looked good wet, water streaming down him, hair slicked back and shining. She almost touched him, but stopped her self. He was too beautiful to be really real, and he would never be just hers. People, mortal or otherwise, always hurt you, always left. Everything would eventually end, nothing was forever, not even Goblin Kings. She had made up her mind not to love anyone.

He swam away from her, rolling around in the water, floating on his back. Why was he here? Would he get tired of waiting and leave? He owed her nothing, and she was square with him as well. Yet he had sought her out, involved himself in her life, wanted or not. Now, she couldn't picture what it would be like with out him. She dove under the water, swimming as far down as she could. She opened her eyes, glad that the lake wasn't the chlorine pool at home. That always burned her eyes.

The light above her was warped, oddly bent to the side. She could see little fish swimming about. She stayed under for as long as she could, then, slowly realeasing the air in her lungs, swam for the surface. She burst from the water like a mermaid, hair slicked, sputtering water and blinking beads of water form her eyelashes.

"Enjoying yourself, my little selkie?" She turned to fine the King watching her with the same bemused look she had watched him with.

"Very much."

"Good. I'm glad." He turned to swim away.

"Jareth?"

"Yes?" He was facing her again.

"I'm glad you came with me. I mean, I'm glad I'm not alone up here. I don't think I would be having quite as much fun."

He nodded and smiled.

"I think I have had enough water for one day." She swam for the dock and pulled herself out. A weird sensation traveled through her as she wrapped herself in a towel and hurried for the house. The sun was setting, and the air was chill against her damp skin.

A fire crackled in the fire place as Sarah stepped from the steaming bathroom after her shower. Jareth dozed on the sofa, the room cast in a peaceful orange glow. Sighing, she made her way into the bedroom. The moon was an impossibly bright beacon through her window. Sarah stretched on the bed, thoughts racing around her mind. Sleep found her not long after.

The following day, after much persuasion and whining, Sarah and the King went exploring in the woods behind the cabin. Well, Sarah went exploring. Half way into the woods, Jareth scaled a tree and disappeared for three hours. When he found her, later on, she was asleep in a clearing full of daisies. He smiled and shook her shoulder gently to wake her. She followed him drowsily back to the cabin. After a while and a visit to the general store, she tossed a salad for dinner and grilled two steaks on the BBQ outside.

Sarah was happy to see the King heartily devour the steak, although he did pick through the salad, eating everything but the lettuce. After dinner, Jareth discovered the book shelf on the wall in the living room. He was quite engrossed in a large black leather bound volume by the time she was dozing in the chair. She bid him goodnight, but she dobted he even heard her. Slumber pulled at her as she trailed into the bedroom.

Was the moon supposed to be that bright? Sarah's eyes fell open and she gazed out the window. The moon cast and eery, almost ominous glow arcoss the room. She rolled away and tried to sleep, but there was too much light. She climbed from the bed and padded quietly into the living room. Jareth slumped on the sofa, his book open across his lap. Sarah thought briefly of waking him, but what for? She glanced around, and spotted the moon lit waters of the lake through the window. Something about them beckoned her. She felt the lack of balance in her life, how little of herself she had put into it as of late. Something about the crystalline waters calmed her. She would find her absolution in those waters. Her body felt dry. She glanced again at Jareth, and then slipped outside. She didn't, however, see the King's eyes flick open as she shut the door.

She stood at the end of the dock for what seemed like an eternity. The silvery water glowed up at her. She was silent and unmoving as he advanced noiselessly behind her.

"I thought you were sleeping," she said softly.

"As I of you."

"There is something wrong with the moon. It's too bright tonight."

Jareth cocked his head. She was acting odd, as if she were still half asleep, part suspended in dream.

"What are you doing out here, Sarah?"

She smiled to herself, for he couldn't see her face. Then she pulled her arms above her head and dove perfectly into the water. Fear grasped the King, for his dear heart was known for her suicide attempts, those of which he had made sure to interfere with in some way or another. When she surface several feet away, hair shiny and slick like a sea lion, he breathed a long sigh of relief. She turned towards him, her eyes large and shining. They were full of an innocense he'd thought she'd lost long ago. Her face had gained a certain softness back, as it had been hardened by self torture and nights of soulless encounters. She was truly alone in everything she had been through, but he had always been there, watching, waiting for her to come to him. He would never let her fall apart again. Even if she never loved him like he loved her, he would never leave her.

Jareth reached his hand down, and Sarah swam and grasped it. He pulled her from the water, and Sarah was instantly cold. She shuddered. The King pulled her close, chasing away the chill. His hair was a wild main framing his face, and Sarah reached up and fingered a strand of it. The ethereal silkiness of it fascinated her. And then, quite suddenly, all the blood rush upward in her body, and she felt as if she were spinning. And then she kissed him. It was the truest kiss she had ever experienced, and she felt it down in the tips of her toes.

Shock and joy spread through Jareth's body in a synonymous swirl. He kissed her back with a ferocity that said he had been waiting a very long time to do so. Then, to his surprise, for he wasn't sure if was the cold, or the kiss, or both, but Sarah went completely limp in his arms. She had fainted. Jareth propped her up, then scooped her into his arms like a princess. Legs slung over one arm, head lolling over the other, he carried her up to the house and lay her on the bed. Heart a bit lighter than it had been, he slipped out and quietly shut the door. The moon watched her through the window as she slept.

The sun found Sarah awake and the King gone from the cabin. After looking around for a bit, she realized he was no where to be found, and he obviously didn't want to be, so she didn't continue to look. Instead, she hopped in her car and drove down to the general store. She parked next to a large truck with a bunch of fishing poles and a tackle box in the back. There was mud caked on the tires and faded red paint was badly chipped. She smiled. You would never see anything like that in the city. She got out and went in, passing two kids with a box of 'free puppies' sitting out front. She was careful not to look. She'd never had a pet save for Merlin, and she since he had passed of old age, she'd never wanted another.

The Flo-n-Go general store had just about everything you would ever need, from groceries to cleaning supplies, to bales of hay stacked in the back. It was an odd store. Flo, the owner, was an oddly vivacious woman with red hair, one you didn't think you'd see in a place like this. Her and Aunt Diana had been the best of friends in high school and had gotten into more trouble one would think possible for two teenagers in a small town. Upon Sarah's earilier visit, Flo had welcomed her with a bear hug and stories of her's and Diana's glory days.

Today, Flo looked frazzled, hair sticking up on end. Sarah smiled.

"You okay?" She asked.

Flo looked up. "Sarah honey! Yes, I'm fine. I was up late helping on of the mares give birth, and I guess it just took more out of me than I thought. What are you up to today?"

"I need paint. Aunt Di gave me a list of things that could use fixing up at the cabin, and that one's first."

"Ah yes, well have you ever painted a house before?"

"Well, no, but it can't be that hard."

"Well I hope Di knows what she is getting herself into. Here, let me get you a few cans. And if you need more, you send that hunky companion of yours to get it. I can't believe you havn't introduced me yet." Flo laughed over her shoulder.

"Hey, how did you know I brought anyone with me?" Sarah put her hands on her hips.

Flo turned and gave her a devious grin. "Di called me the moment you left her house. She wouldn't shut up about him."

Sarah rolled her eyes and laughed. Obviously she would need to leave the handsome King at home next time. Or at least leave him in the car.

The sun beat down like a slave driver, and Sarah wiped sweat from her forehead. She had never sweated this much in her life, and it was quite disgusting. She had dug a ladder from the shed, deciding to start at the top and work her way down. She had finished the whole upper half of one side, balancing precariously on the ladder. It was a pain, having to climb down and move the ladder every time she finished an arms reach, but seeing how bright the new paint was compared to the old paint that was underneath. The hardest part had been trying to primer it first. After getting it her hair, and realizing it wasn't drying nearly as fast as she had hoped, she gave up. The paint seemed to go on over the old stuff just fine.

By the time Jareth appeared at the forests edge, the sun was spreading orange and red across the sky, and stars were peaking at the tips. Sarah lay sprawled across the roof, eyes closed, breathing rather fast for her still position. The smell of mortal perspiration wafted down to him, and he wrinkled his nose. What had his lamb been doing with herself all day?

Sarah heard leaves crackling under foot and sat up rather abruptly. The King peered up at her quizzically. She glared at him.

"And just where have you been all day?"

"I had business to attend to."

"In the woods?"

"I was not in the woods." He looked her, and she suddenly understood he had been to the Underground.

"Is everything alright?"

"Would you care if it wasn't?" He turned and vanished inside the house.

Sarah grumbled and swore and climbed back down the ladder. She stored it and the paint back in the shed, and went back in the house to give that pompous ass a piece of her mind. Just because she didn't visit didn't mean she didn't care.

As she entered, however, she found him sitting quietly, pouring over a strange map he had spread across the coffee table, and she could bring herself to speak cruelly to him. He traced the lines with his finger and muttered to him self, his brow furrowed.

"I do care," was all she said.

"Everything is well," he answered.

Sighing, she went into the bathroom and closed the door. She needed a shower, as her own smell was becoming too much to bare. She was glad the cabin had indoor plumbing. The water was steaming by the time she stepped under it, and she felt tension instantly leave her body. Suddenly, there was a tentive knock on the door. She slid the warped glass door open and glared out.

"What?" she asked in annoyance.

"There is a strange noise coming from the kitchen!"

"Huh?" Was it the smoke alarm? She climbed reluctantly from the water and shut it off. Wrapping hersefl tightly in a towel, she ventured out.

It was the phone. Odd. Was it her Aunt checking on her?

"Hello?"

"Just what in the hell do you think you are doing?" Wrong, again. Karen sounded pissed.

"Hi Karen. I was going to call you tomorrow to let you know-."

"I don't want to hear it! Do you know how much trouble you are in! You missed the luncheon! The committee was ready to revoke your crown. I had to go beg them to give us one more chance! I saved your skinny little ass, girl, and you better get it back here right now!"

She could hear her father in the background, asking for the phone. Karen protested but handed it over. Sarah braced herself for another tongue lashing. Instead, a concerned voice came on the line.

"Sarah, darling, are you alright? Your mother and I were very worried about you. Honey, if you had wanted some time off, you should have said something."

"Bullshit. The only thing that woman cares about it her fucking pageant. And she is not my mother!" Sarah hated yelling at her father, but he was so blinded by Karen. She new how hate-filled her voice sounded. All her old emotions had returned, the ones she felt after learning the truth of her mothers death.

"Sarah please don't start that again." His voice was pleading, but she could hear Karen screaming in the background. "And there is no need for such language. Karen loves you very much..." his voice trailed off as the King stepped up behind her, hands on her shoulders, kneading the tension away. He fathers voice became a distant sound, like he was calling to her from the other side of a desert.

"Sarah, dammit, are you even listening?"

"Fuck you." She hung up. Anger flared up her face, followed by tears that stung her eyes and pissed her off. Karen could still get to her.

She turned to pull away from Jareth, but he caught her and held her. She fought his grasp, but he held her tight against him, and soon the fighting ceased, and the tears came like a flood. She sobbed, and he held her, muttering soft words for comfort.

A realization came to Jareth as he stood there in that kitchen. He would do anything for that girl. He would anything in his power to keep her safe and happy. The thoughts were so severe that they frightened him. He was glad she shook like a leaf, so that she couldn't see that he shook like one too.

Authors note, the sequel: To those of you who have been reading, please continue to do so and review. Newbs, if any, hope you are enjoying it so far. Review, or I'll stop posting. Okay probably not, but I will pout, and seriously consider not continuing.


	5. Leverage

1

Chapter 5: _Leverage._

The Goblin King sat in the quiet house, listening to the kitchen clock tick, waiting for the sun to rise. Sarah slept like the dead in the bedroom. Jareth pondered over his visit to the Underground, and the information his new captain had given him. His previous Captain and good friend, Cornelius Dantes, had taken a small band of men, and gone off on his own vigilante march. A war brewed in the east, and Jareth had opted not to send his army. He did not want to be involved in a war that was not a threat to him. Dantes had wanted to fight. The war would reach their lands, he was sure. With the King gone, he had tried to convince his army to march against orders. The majority were loyal to their King, but about twenty or so had gone with him, to the war.

His second in command, Malakai, had stood his ground, and was now, by default, the new Captain. Jareth was angered, and worried that the vigilantes would bring war upon him. He was tired of the constant fighting. There was always something, a jealous King, a sorcerer who had gained enough power to raise an army of dead soldiers, a seer with God complex. Someone always wanted to fight him for his lands, his Labyrinth. Now that the was aimed at the Elves and not at his people, he didn't wish to engage his men in battle.

In the dark of her room, Sarah awoke form a dream she could not remember. She thought back to a time when things had seemed simpler, but were in fact, as tumultuous as they were now, but instead they battles were fought around her instead of with her. She was five, and her mother and father were at it again. They fought all the time now, because mommy was always gone with something better to do.

She could hear their harsh words as if they were right next to her, the rise and fall of sharp notes making her stomach churn. There had been something about an audition on the same night as Sarah's kindergarten choir concert. Sarah stood in the stair well, little black and white dress kind of wrinkled, patent leather shoes a size too big. She wiggled her toes against the paper shoved in the front of her shoe and listened quietly.

Mommy looked so pretty, but she wasn't dressed for Sarah's concert. No, she had and audition for a play that night, and it was a once in a lifetime deal. They were always once in a life time deals.

"What's more important to you? Your damn acting or our daughter. You need to straighten out your priorities, Linda!" Daddies voice had an odd sound to it, like he might cry.

"Don't you dare, George. Don't you dare make me feel like a bitch because of one night. Do you know what this role could do for me? This could be it! And there will be other concerts." Sarah winced as mommy said the bad word.

"Not other first ones! What are you going to tell Sarah? She is so excited for you to be there."

Linda growled, low and snarling. She turned and stormed into the kitchen, grabbing her purse off the table. Then she came around the edge of the stairs, and upon, seeing her daughter, flashed that dazzleing smile she gave all the directors. But this one was stretched at the edges, like she was having a harder time pulling it off now.

Kneeling down, she looked at Sarah. "Sweetie, mommy has to miss your concert tonight. But I promise you that I will come to the next one. Ok?"

Sarah opened her mouth to speak, when her very aggrevated father reached past her mother and scooped Sarah up.

"No, Linda, no promises. You always break them." He held Sarah, who watched her pretty mother crumble a little at her fathers words.

"No, not this one. I promise with all my heart." Her eyes were pleading, asking silently to be forgiven. Tears brimmed up.

"Stop!" George yelled. Sarah jumped and tried to wriggle away, but he held her. "Just stop, Linda, no more. Please."

With that, he swept Sarah out the front door, to the car. She watched her mother as they walked away. Linda's face was grey and wet from her tears, now falling silently. Her eyeliner ran down her cheek like a black worm. Sarah held up her little hand and waved. Her mother turned away, shutting the front door.

Sarah sang with all her might that night, surrounded by fellow children. But when they got home, her mother was beaming again, for she had gotten the part. Sarah never did choir again.

Sleep pulled at her again, and she drifted off. But her dreams came for her, and they had decided not to be friendly.

_"Sarah! Come here darling!"_

_Sarah heard her mothers voice calling for her in the other room. Sarah jumped off her bed and bounded into the master suite that thins angel and her father shared. Linda sat at her vanity, brushing out her long, dark hair that seemed to glow in the odd, hazy light. She was naked under her silk, gold robe. As Sarah came up behind her mother, dread crept into her belly. Something was terribly, awfully wrong. She looked into the mirrored closet doors and met her own reflection. There stood eighteen year old Sarah, clad in her white cotton nighty, hair mussed from the pillow. This wasn't the little girl she had expected to see looking back. Her mother had died way before Sarah had grown this big. _

_Her mother stood and turned towards her. "My, my, how beautiful you are, my girl. You look just like me." Linda cupped her daughters chin before sweeping past her into the bathroom in a wash of some expensive perfume. _

_There was something odd about her mothers face. The eyes, they were vacant. There was nothing behind them, nothing looked back. She was an empty shell. Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. Slowly she entered the bathroom. She found her mother staring into the mirror in a black evening gown. She glanced at her daughter in the mirror._

_"What do you think of my dress?"_

_As she turned, Sarah backed away, stomach churning. Her dead-eyed mother faced her, blood pouring from slashes in her wrists. Her eyes were completely gone now, and Sarah stared into the black pits where they had been. She screamed, turning to run, only to feel her mothers boney fingers grab her wrists and dig into the flesh. _

_Sarah turned, staring horrified into her mother's vacant eyes. "Darling," her mother spoke, voice like a hissing snake. "Where are you going? Don't run from your mother."_

_"No!" Sarah screamed. "No, get away from me! You are not my mother!!! No!" She screamed until her voice grew hoarse, but she kept screaming. _

Some one was shaking her, gripping her shoulders tightly. Sarah's eyes flew open, and she came face to face with a very worried Goblin King. She was dripping with sweat, and it stung her eyes.

"Are you alright? You were screaming."

"Yes, I'm alright. I was dreaming. Dreaming of my mother." Tears pooled at the bottom of her eyelids.

Jareth brought her eyes to meet his with a finger under her chin. His face was sympathetic and sad. "You are a mess, m'lady."

"Yes, I think I need another shower." She climbed from the bed, wrapped in her sheet, and disappeared into the bathroom. Jareth let the air out of his lungs and stood. He stopped at he walked by the bathroom. She was sobbing again. Carefully, he tried the door, and she had indeed locked it.

Inside, in the shower, Sarah let the tears come, thinking her sound to be hidden by the sound of water. She stayed under the water until it ran cold.

The next morning, Sarah got up with the sun, even though she had only slept for three or four hours. She was long into painting the house by the time the King awoke from his spot on the couch. She had two whole sides done as he ventured out to investigate.

"Well, I see you've made quite some progress." He shaded his eyes from the sun as he looked at her.

"Yes, well it has to be done. I just hope I am doing it right."

Jareth sighed. "You really plan to fix this place up, don't you?"

"Aunt Di asked me to, and the least I can do is try."

"You must realize that I can just wish this done, and then you won't have to worry about it." He grinned up at her.

"Now, that would be cheating. Besides, this will be good for us. And don't look at me that. You are helping me." She shook her paintbrush at him.

"Very well, what is it you expect me to do?"

Sarah grinned, and unease spread in his stomach.

Over the next few days they painted the house, touched up the trim, rebuilt and patched parts of the fence, and even painted the storage shed. As dark fell on the third day of labor, the summer sky clouded over, and the first of a series of thunder storms rumbled closer. Sarah was building a fire when the rain came. At first it made her smile, since she had always loved storms, but then the drop of water landed on her head. She looked up, glaring at the ceiling, when another plop fell in her eye. Jumping and cursing, Sarah stood and looked around, and all about the house, leaks appeared in the roof, water dripping down to pool on the floor.

"Jareth!"

They spent the next half hour running about the house, sticking pots and pans under to catch the water. Jareth insisted she let him patch the roof with magic, but she said she liked the plinking sound it made. Besides, they could make patching the roof tomorrow's project. Rained out and tired, Sarah decided it was bed time.

"Hmm, there seems to be a problem." Jareth examined the couch, his normal sleeping station, and the pans she had set on it to catch the water that would pour on his head. He looked at her, hiding a bit of a smile. "Seems, m'lady, that you will have to share your bed."

She groaned. "Fine, but don't try anything."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Sarah changed into her pajamas in the bathroom, the warm flannel ones Candy had boughten her for Christmas last year. She opened the door to find the King propped up on pillows, absorbed in yet another book from the shelf. He was clad in dark blue satin pajamas, and Sarah felt masculine in her green and red flannel. He even had matching slippers of a soft fur. She padded to the bed and crawled under the covers, a task considering her lay atop them. She pulled them loose and glared. He peered at her from over the top of his novel.

"Are you quite finished?"

"No, you are laying on all the blankets." She felt like sticking her tongue out at him, but felt to old for such behavior. Instead she glared and rolled away, grumbling.

The King laughed, and it was that sort of low, rumbling laugh that made her stomach flop. She thought of their kiss, and it seemed like a dream. She didn't remember anything, knowing she had either passed out or fallen asleep. She wondered if he ever thought of that night, and what would have happened had she stayed conscious. Did she even know?

The moon found it's way into Sarah's thoughts at four in the morning, when the sound of the rain stopping woke her. The clouds parted and the bright orb peered at her through the window. She opened her eyes to meet its gaze. The King slept soundly beside her, breathing softly and evenly. His face a ghost like glow in the moonlight, he seemed other worldly, a being from another time and place come to visit her in her sleep. His skin was an ethereal facade, merely a casing for a greater being lurking beneath.

She reached out to touch that milky disguise, and then stopped as his breathing quickened. Tension became visible in his muscles, and Sarah drew her hand away. He was awake. She quickly rolled away and closed her eyes.

Jareth smiled in the dark. What was she up to now, feigning sleep. Was she watching the moon again? He wondered why this moon was different from the city moon, and why it called to her so. He almost spoke, almost turned to run his hand along that smooth expanse of shoulder that sometimes peeked when her night shirt slid to the side. She seemed to beckon him like the moon beckoned her.

Jareth thought back to a time when Sarah had been much closer to excepting his offer. She had been so young, and his intentions had been different then. Long ago, it had been more about his personal victory than anything else. His feelings towards her had been those of contempt, not love. She was just another stupid, selfish child who wanted the world to revolve around her and was willing to get rid of anyone who stood in the way. Yes, she had been his prettiest challenger, but it was not until she refused him, choosing the life of a child over his offer of the world, that he truly fell for her. When she had denied the power he had over her, he realized that the creature that stood before him was no longer a girl, but a woman, and more so than anyone who had ever come to his Labyrinth before.

He was awake long after Sarah had fallen back to sleep. He listened to her breathing for quite sometime before he felt tired. But still he couldn't sleep. He climbed from the bed and slipped out of the room. Once over the thresh hold, he was once again clad in his usual cape and boots. Outside, the air was cool and damp, but the sky was clear and the stars were bright. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Muttering the small simple words he'd learned in childhood, he felt the earth shake beneath him. When he opened his eyes, he was in his throne room. It was storming in the Underground. He stalked across the room and headed for the stairs.

Bartholomew had been the castles Liberian for over 500 years, and never had he felt such turmoil in the air. He poured over the maps the King had left out from his last visit, and unease and panic were thick against his skin. Pain and hate hung on the air like swarm of bees. War was near, and the King was blind to it.

Suddenly the door was thrown open, and the Goblin King stood in a mass of cape and feathers. He was all in black, and his emotions were an electrical current that ran through Bartholomew, making the old and heavily wrinkled elf shudder. Jareth strode to him and in a sweep of his arm, the maps were flying across the room. The King's angry eyes landed with the weight of stones upon the ancient scholar.

"We are not going to war! I instructed you to put these away after I left the last time! Dantes is a fool. And if anyone brings war on this land, it will be his doing and I will see to it personally that he is beheaded!" Jareth's rage was like fists beating down.

Bartholomew, who had been a powerful empath his entire life, fell to the ground and covered his ears. He felt his King's emotions like they were real, physical, tangible things that could hurt him. The contempt that boiled up in his gut to match the Kings made him dizzy.

"Please, your Highness, I beg you! Forgive me!"

The pain in his voice stopped Jareth's rant. He fell back to lean against the wall, exhaustion sweeping through him. He hadn't meant to hurt the aging elven scholar. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

"Do not feel guilty, my King, I know you meant know harm." Bartholomew stood, shaking, and began to slowly roll up the maps.

Jareth chuckled, but it was more of a beaten down, exasperated sound then a happy one. "Oh, Bartholomew. Most kingdoms wish for a King who avoids war. Mine despises me for it."

"No one despises you for it, your majesty." Bartholomew slid the maps into their long leather tubes and sealed them. "Your people merely fear that they will not be protected."

"Gods, even you, holed away in this damn library, must know that I would fight if the war were to endanger my borders. I have never once left my people undefended. I have always fought, always protected. And at what cost? We have lost many. And we have gained nothing. No, I will not send my men to die for a cause that is not theirs." Jareth helped him to seal the maps. Then it occured to him how selfish he had sounded only a moment ago. "Bartholomew, do you have family left in the elven lands? If you do, I could have them sent for-."

"Oh, no, your majesty, no. My family has longed moved on for other parts of the Underground. We are nomads. It is not that which concerns me. Nor is it that it is my people who are dying. No, it is that the war will come, and you will not be aware."

Jareth looked at Bartholomew, taking the wrinkled old hand in his. "I promise you that if a war threatens this land, I will be the first to know it."

With that, the King took his leave, sweeping from the room in a blur of cape and what appeared to be smoke.

The rain was a welcomed break from the near drought of the mountain valley. The men had set up their hide tents, and were now crouched under them, smoking pipes and talking in hush voices. All fell silent at the sound of a horse approaching. They heard their captain exit his quarters to greet the rider, then they resumed their chatter.

Dantes stepped from his tent as the cloaked figure slowed his mare and dismounted. There was a long tube strapped to his saddle, and he unattached it and tucked it under his arm. He stopped before the tall, but young man before him and made a small but distinguishable signal with his hand and removed his robe. Dantes smiled.

"Greetings elder. We have been awaiting your arrival."

"Yes well, the King came unexpectedly and I had to put the maps away." Bartholomew shook the rain off his cloak and handed the tube over to the young vigilante.

"Ah, our ever-vigilante King. Always on the watch for betrayal." Dantes laughed. "Well, he would be better off watching his borders than watching his back. This war will come to him, no matter how I defend it."

"Yes, well, our King is blinded by his conquests at the moment." Bartholomew sighed..

Dantes raised a brow. "Conquests?"

"Haven't heard about her have you?" Bartholomew smiled. "I'll tell you if you let me get out of this rain."

"Of course. The wilderness has stolen my manners. Come this way. My tent's dry. I'll build a fire."

The two men retired to the largest tent in the clearing. After a fire was crackling warm and full in the pit in the center, they sat with tea in wooden bowls and sipped.

"So tell me, what of this conquest?" Dantes ran his hand over his grizzled chin. His blue eyes sparkled with interest.

"A few years ago, the young thing beat his Labyrinth and denied his affections. He seems to be winning her back to make her his Queen. If there is a Kingdom left to rule when this war is finished."

"I barely remember talk of that. All I felt was the power surge, or change I guess I should say. The King kept it mostly to himself I think." Dantes sipped his tea and wished it were whisky.

"Well, from what I hear, he's quite smitten."

"With a mortal?" His laugh was much louder now. "What a fool. No mortal is worth forfeiting a Kingdom. I'm not even sure fae women are worth that."

"Yes, well this one seems, different..." Bartholomew sighed. Yes, the King was indeed a fool. Love for a woman was futile in the time of war, as it would only lead to the loss of lives and kingdoms. One can not govern on a throne if one is so infatuated.

"However," Dantes, voice pulled Bartholomew from his thoughts. "This girl might prove useful after all. Leverage in a war is always useful."

"I'm not sure I understand..." Bartholomew's voice faded into the background, as Dantes mind was suddenly filled with such plans they encompassed all his thinking.

"Leverage," he said with a smile.

It was getting late. The sun had reached the highest point in the sky, and it was slowly but surely passing by. Sarah sat on the front porch, glowering out at the lake. Jareth, that infuriating oaf, had taken off yet again. She had needed his help, as the roof was in awful need of a mending, and she hadn't the slightest idea how to go about it. After all, she was beauty queen, not a roofer. Or a painter, or a gardener, for that matter, but she had done her best. She had spent the morning pulling weeds from the garden, and up rooting and rearranging the flowers so they weren't so...amuck. She had even planted the seeds she'd found in the garden shed. Not that she could pronounce the flowers' name on the package, but that was irrelevant. She sighed. Her hands were dirt stained, at it hadn't been until after she had finished that she had discovered the gloves in the shed.

"Where are you?" she asked aloud, to no one in particular. Well, it was to someone in particular, not that that person cared to listen or was around to over hear.

Dust rising on the distant road caught her attention, and she leaned forward. She could make out the shape of a truck, and she was glad it wasn't Karen's SUV or her dad's compact. But who was it? She had a hilarious image of Jareth driving up and getting out of the mud covered thing, dingy overalls and a blade of grass between his teeth. She laughed aloud and stood to get a better look. She recognized it as the red truck parked outside the Flo-n-Go. There was a figure in it, tall, and male, but not Jareth. Not enough hair.

The truck was in the drive now, and she walked up to greet the passenger as he unfolded long legs and hopped down. He looked up and smiled. Sarah, having never seen this person before, gave him a puzzled look and extended her hand. He shook it and spoke:

"Hey, you must be Sarah. Flo sent me over to see if you needed any help with the house. I'm Adam."

"Sarah, but I guess you already knew that." He grinned. She dropped his hand. What was Flo up to? "It was really nice of you to stop by, Adam, but I think I've got it just about covered." She didn't want to be rude, but the last thing she needed was Jareth running across this kid, or vice versa. The Goblin King would not be...accommodating.

"Oh, well, I didn't mean to make it sound like you don't know what you're doing. Just that you might need extra help. You know, any heavy lifting, spiders you want me to squash, that sort of thing."

Sarah paused to look at him, saw the smile playing at the corners of his mouth, and realized he was playing a joke. She couldn't help but laugh. "Come to think of it, there is a wasps nest on the back porch I wouldn't mind if you handled."

He laughed. He was handsome, rather tall, (but not as tall as some), with short dark hair and, was it green, yes, green eyes. His nose was sort of big, and his eyebrows needed grooming, but not altogether a bad package. Sarah mentally sighed. If only he knew she was assessing him like a prized heifer at a Four-H competition. Maybe she was too superficial, after a few years in the pageant circle. She found the flaws in everyone's appearance. Everyone, that was, except for Jareth. She looked at Adam again. Poor guy, he could never measure up, but then, no one ever could. She hated the basis she had for comparison. Perfect. Cold, hard, perfect.

"Come on, Adam, I think I have some lemonade or something in the fridge. We can discuss the wasps." She smiled as she led him up to the house. She would be friendly, then send him on his way.

Adam stood rather awkwardly in the kitchen while Sarah hunted down some powdered lemonade mix. They were silent, save for Sarah's rather vulgar swearing at the cupboard door after she hit her head on it. Finally Adam cleared his throat and broke the silence.

"So, what brought you up here?"

Sarah ceased her stirring of the powder-water concoction and looked at him, blowing air from her mouth in an exasperated sigh. "Just...hiding out I guess."

"From what?"

She laughed. "Everything. Nothing. I don't know. I just got sick of the life I had, have, I guess." She looked at him as she pulled glasses from the the cupboard above her head. "I'm not a nice person, Adam."

"Meh, nice is overrated."

It was then that Sarah realized she missed people. The Goblin King was certainly interesting company, among other things, but he wasn't people, not really. She missed her pageant friends, as one dimensional as they could often be, at least they were fun.

"Come on, lets go outside." She handed him his glass.

Two hours and three pitchers of lemonade later, they were still conversing on the front porch. He was easy to talk to, and she was glad to have someone other than the Goblin King to vent on. She found herself telling Adam stuff about her family that she didn't usually feel comfortable sharing. She told him about her mother, her real mother, but not about the lie she had lived for years. Some things she kept to herself. They made her seem too damaged.

It was late, the sky tinged pink at the edges, blues fading to purples. Adam seemed reluctant to go. He kept asking more questions whenever she brought up how dark it was getting. She would answer, find herself talking for another 20 minutes, then trying again to wrap it up.

Finally, Adam stood. "Well, I guess I should go. I didn't really plan to spend all this time talking." He stopped, and grinned sheepishly when she raised a brow. "That came out wrong."

"It's okay, I know what you meant. If you have time, come back tomorrow and we can actually talk business. The shutters need replacing, and I tried to patch the roof, but well, yeah. You should probably take a look at it."

"I will, definitely. When's your boyfriend getting back?"

"My what? Oh, you mean, oh. He's not my boyfriend." She laughed whole heartedly. It was rather comical thought.

Adam gave her a puzzled look. "Oh? Flo said-."

"Flo has a big mouth," she said abruptly. "Sorry, I didn't mean that, but she assumes too much. The King- er- Jareth and I are just friends."

"Jareth? That's an odd name." Adam commented.

"Some one call for me?" came a slightly annoyed voice from the shadows.

The two jumped and Sarah whirled to find the King lurking in the shadows, where he had not been before. He was an awful good lurker, she mused. He stepped into the light. Sarah said a silent thanks to the fact his hair was tied back, similar to the way she had done it the first day. Even without that added height, he towered over both her and Adam. She wasn't sure, but she thought she heard Adam gulp.

"Um, there you are. Thanks for disappearing on me."

"Seems you had enough...company." He smirked, and Sarah knew instantly he was going to be a pain. Another thing he was really good at. His head flew up to meet Adam's stare, and he flashed a brilliant smile and extended his hand.

"Good to meet ya, lad! Adam is it?" He had suddenly gone from a hint of a British accent, to a full on drawl.

Adam shook his hand, but looked scared. "Um, yeah."

"Adam, this is my friend Jareth." Sarah interrupted.

"Friend, lovey? Oh, we're a lot more than friends, ain't we pet." The last word had a bite to it, even though he jovially slung his arm around her and planted a sloppy kiss on the top of her head.

"Jareth, knock it off." She hissed, but he seemed unaware, grinning at a nervous Adam, the grip on her shoulders becoming almost painful.

"Well, er, I was just going. Nice to meet you Jareth."

"Pleasures all mine." He flashed pointy teeth.

"Okay Adam, well don't forget to stop by tomorrow to help me with the shutter. Tell Flo thank you!" Sarah waved, but Adam was already off the porch and opening his truck's door.

"Yeah, sure." He hopped in and was barreling down the road before she could smack that pain-in-the-ass King.

She turned on him, snarling. "What is wrong with you? He came to help around the house. Flo sent him. I can't do all this work by myself! Now you probably scared him off!"

"Oh pish. He was an easy target."

"Stop with the stupid accent."

"Very well. And may I remind you I offered my magic to the recuperation of this shack, and you turned it down. Therefore, you can't say I didn't try." He crossed his arms and frowned at her.

"Well, I didn't want to use magic, but now you really leave me no choice, since you've frightened off my other options." She sighed and turned to enter the house.

"There, I knew you'd come to see things my way."

"I don't even have the energy to give you a dirty look right now."

"Seemed quite smitten with you, poor mislead youth," Jareth mused aloud.

"Can you please keep your disturbing little thoughts to yourself, your highn-ass."

"One more. You really should stop seducing these poor mortals, Sarah. They haven't the ability to sense what a soulless little dame you are." There was a snicker in his voice that hinted he intended this all in play.

"Goodnight." Sarah shut the bedroom door behind her, feelings slightly hurt. Was she really that hopeless?


	6. Bibbity Bobbity Boo

1Authors Note: Gah! Sorry it took so long to post. My life has been crazy these past couple of months. Hope you guys are still with me. Anyways, here is Chapter 6; 7 is on it's way! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Labyrinth, or any of it's characters. I do own my o.c.'s and such. Anyways, you already no all that, so lets get down to the story!

Chapter 6: Bibbity Bobbity Boo.

The moon was a distant glow in the inky sky when the screen door slammed shut. Jareth shivered. Being the Goblin King didn't mean that the chilled air didn't affect him. He stomped off the porch and onto the dirt. Swiveling on his heel to face the house, he folded his arms, brow furrowed pensively. The building, though quaint, was bordering on shabby. Upon looking at it, he was reminded of a silly human fairy tale he'd heard in passing, something about a young girl in need of a make-over, and a pumpkin. What was it? Cinderfoot, or some nonsense like that. Shaking his head, he once again focused on the project before him. Yes, it was in need of some sprucing up, to put it mildly. He paced a bit, not really because he needed to think, but because he liked to pretend things like this were a challenge. Made him feel, well, special. In all reality, such projects were such a yawn that he rarely did them. Maybe that was why his own castle looked so...unkempt.

The Goblin King ceased his pacing and glanced at the house. He sighed, saying some nonsense rhyme under his breath that he had made up only moments ago. With a wave of his hand, everything came together before his eyes.

"Well, that's done," he mumbled under his breath.

Shaking the cold off his coat tales, so to speak, he disappeared back inside.

There was something different about that morning. She felt it the moment she woke up. It nagged at her through her morning coffee, and was still at the back of her mind after a quick jog out the back door and through the woods. When Sarah returned, sweaty and out of breath, covered in pine needles, she still felt odd. The Goblin King was scribbling away in a large leather-bound book, something she doubted came off any book shelf in this world. He's been at it all morning, dipping his quill into a small pot of ink, thin wire-framed glasses perched on the end of his nose. _Wait, glasses? Since when did the Fae need prescription eye wear? _He'd barely said to word from her since she emerged from her bedroom, and every time she got even

remotely close enough to peek at the pages, he would clear his throat loudly and peer at her in annoyance.

The hotter the shower water, the more it felt like something had changed. Sarah couldn't out her finger on it. What was different? She shut the water off and stepped out, drying herself, and running through her mind what could have possibly changed over night.

Not a moment after she finished french braiding her wet hair, the sound of a rusted truck on a bumpy road met her ears. _Good, Jareth didn't scare you away. _She slipped her feet into flip-flops and jogged out to meet Adam. As she darted by, she caught Jareth's displeased glance out the window.

Adam hopped from his truck, shading his eyes against the sun, squinting still in disbelief. As if by magic, the cabin was suddenly in perfect condition. Every shingle in place, every shutter hinged and painted. Sarah came out and came down the porch. The second squeaky stair had even been repaired. Sarah smiled, looking almost relieved to see him.

"Hey, I wondered if you were coming back. Thought maybe Jareth had scared you off last night."

"No, not at all. But, frankly, I can't see why you even need me anymore."

"Huh?" Sarah looked at him in confusion.

He shrugged at her and gesture out with a callused right hand. Sarah frowned as the strangeness she had been feeling all day poured down her spine all at once. She whirled on her foot and upon seeing what lay before her, clasped her hand to her mouth, catching the gasping lying there. The cabin was perfect. The paint shown, the windows gleamed grimeless, the weeds around the flower beds had vanished.

"That sneaky bastard," she muttered in disbelief.

"Huh?"

"Nothing." She shook her head. "Yeah, well, um..." How was she supposed to explain this. Houses didn't get fixed over night. Not like this.

Adam was looking at her, and she could feel her face cheeks turning red. She wanted to kill him, the King, not the confused boy standing next to her.

"Well, I guess I drove out here for nothing then, huh?"

Sarah looked up at him, not as far up as she had to look when looking at Jareth but up none the less. Was he not going to ask how?

"Yeah, sorry, I should have called."

"You didn't have my number."

"Yeah..." she let her voice trail off as they both continued to stare at the cabin in shock.

The sound of the screen door slamming brought them to attention as the Goblin King sauntered down the steps. "Ah, Adam, lad, come back for another look 'ave we?" He gestured at the house, but his gaze was clearly on Sarah. That ridiculous accent was back as well.

She growled under her breath as Adam cleared his throat nervously. "I though there was still work to be done, but it looks like you took care of it, sir. I'll be going." He looked at Sarah with a sheepish smile and turned to get in his truck.

Sarah was about to call after him when the King beat her too it. "Adam, perhaps you could stay and entertain dear Sarah. I have some business to attend to elsewhere." His grin was a devious one, and Sarah wanted to shove sharp objects down his throat.

Adam paused, looking between the two of them, puzzled, arm posed to pull him self into the pickup.

"We could go for a swim?" She suggested for lack of anything else to offer.

Jareth gasped and clasped his hands together. "A swim! What a splendid idea! Isn't she brilliant, Adam?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned back towards the house. "Have fun you two."

Sarah growled under her breath and looked at Adam. He raised his eyebrows at her, but he wasn't arguing.

"Come on," she said, leading him to the house. "I think I have a pair of trunks somewhere that you can borrow."

The first thing Jareth noticed on his return to the castle was the smell. He materialized in his throne room, and now, still standing there, he wrinkled his nose and shook his head. Roses and something darker, something poisonous. This only meant one thing. The Goblin King ran swiftly up the stairs, down the hall, and up the next flight. Countless flights it took him to reach that smell, but his nose was keen, and his energy high. The door to his tower room was slightly ajar, and as his shoved it open with one gloved hand, the smell washed over him in an over-powering wave. The was a smoke about the room, ever so faint but noticeable. He parted the tattered red curtain, and the sight that met his eyes confirmed his earlier assumption.

"Gwendolyn."

The pretty, but deceivingly sweet blond head popped up from her concentrated stare into the cauldron bubbling before her. "Jareth darling!" She squealed. Bouncing excitedly as he walked up, Gwendolyn near spilled out of the rose-colored dress she was squeezed into. "I'm so excited to see you! I have a present." She giggled and came around the table to dig her little fingers into his arm. He nails matched her dress.

Jareth allowed himself to be pulled around the table. She let go of him long enough to grab a ladle and spoon some of the fragrant mixture out. She flung it to his face, slopping some on the table.

"Will, you just smell that? Pure perfection, if I don't say so myself. Mmmmm, I just love a good potion."

The King sniffed it rather daintily and nodded. "Yes, Gwendolyn, it smells fine, but what in bloody hell is it?"

"Why, it's a potion for you, lovey! Well, for your army actually. See, those icky drones have the thickest skin. If your men drink this, then any sword they wield will strike true. Not a blow wasted, your highness." She smiled at him.

"Gwendolyn," he began calmly, "we are not going to war."

"Oh pish."

"Who let you in my castle?"

"Why, I just let my self in, silly, it's not very hard."

The King growled. The last thing he needed was this little twit running around. He would never be able to get back to Sarah with her following him around. Gwendolyn was the well meaning daughter of the swamp hag, whose unfortunate up-bringing left her half good, half evil, dumb as a post, and as powerful as the next head-wizard. Jareth feared something so idiotic yet so evil. She had taken a liking to him, and, being well trained in the art of magic, both light and dark, she was constantly knocking on his door with some kind of concoction.

"As much as it pains me to tell you this, Gwendolyn, we will not be going to war anytime soon. So your potion will go on the shelf with all the others."

"Now, Jareth, you and I both know that the Underground is in danger, and if you are to blind to see it, then I will have to take matters into my own hands." She turned to saunter out, but Jareth caught her by the arm.

"Now, Gwennie, I've tried being nice, but I can't stay that way for long. I'll tell you this once, and then I'll use force. Don't go near my men, or me, anymore, with those damned things. We are not fighting in a war that does not concern us."

Anger was a venom in her voice. "Dantes was right," she hissed. "You are a coward."

Jareth's hand was around the witch's throat before he could think. "Get out."

Suddenly, a great and terrible power spilled across her eyes, and they went black as pits. She opened her mouth to release a cry and pushed with her arms. From her came a leveling blow of power, an unseen force of great strength that threw Jareth back. He landed hard against the wall, head falling back, stars blazing across his vision. In an instant he was on his feet, power forcing itself up and out of his body in retaliation. She flew against the curtain, sending it and her tumbling back into the door. She spat blood as she pushed herself up. Her pretty, innocent face was marred with blood and a snarl.

"See if I try to hep you again, you pompous ass. Your doomed, Jareth. You will lose your kingdom and all with in it without my help. I'll dance on your grave when this is over."

"Get out before I kill you," he hissed.

She was gone, but he knew this wasn't the last he would see of her. He leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. His eyes stung and his head swam. He went in search of Bartholomew.

The radio Sarah had propped up on the dock could only tune into one station, but it played songs from the Beatles and Aretha Franklin, and she was pleased with it. She and Adam had a fine old time, taking turns diving off the dock to see how big a splash they could make. She found her mind wandering to her pageants, and her friends back home. Did they miss her? Had they crowned someone else in her absence. Karen would flip. She wondered how the old bat was doing, and if she was taking her anger out on Toby. Sarah hoped not. She hoped Toby wasn't mad at her. Was her father? Did he side with Karen?

She lay, drying on the dock, when Adam swam up and lay a wet hand on her shoulder. She jumped and sat up. She laughed.

"Sorry, I guess I zoned out."

"What were you think about?"

She looked at him. He really wanted to know. He was rather cute, with the water dripping down his face and that earnest, puppy dog look on his face.

"Nothing. My family I guess. Nothing important."

"Sarah, does your family know you are out here?"

"Of course." She smiled sadly. "Of course, they are pissed about it. Adam, I'm what you would call a shallow person by profession."

He cocked his head to the side, arms folded across the dock, feet dangling in the water. "I don't get it."

"I'm a pageant girl. I get all dressed up in tight dresses with too much makeup, and I sing old songs and parade around in a swim suit so they an tell me how pretty I am and give me a crown." She laughed. "It' s Karens fault, but I didn't fight her much." She stopped talking to look at him again. He was smiling.

"That's funny," he said, reaching up to brush the wet hair from her face. "Because I don't think you're shallow at all."

She was blushing. She could feel it. What was wrong with her? She wasn't some inexperienced preteen, flattered by the slightest of male attentions. She had boys falling over her back home. So why was this boy different? And then, like that, she knew why. Not once had Adam seen her with her makeup on, or her hair done. He's never seen her in high heels and a bikini with her hair straightened and her nails done. He'd never seen her made up like the others had, and he still looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Her heart fluttered.

"Come on dork," he laughed, and yanked her into the water.

Sarah let out a yelp as she hit, the water freezing on her sun-dried skin.

They swam until the sun began to set, and the water grew colder. Sarah's fingers were pruney, and she shivered as her and Adam made their way back to the house. She opened the door, puzzled to find the King was still gone.

"You want some coffee or something?"

"Sure." He shivered. "Mind if I go change into dry clothes?"

"No."

Adam disappeared into the bathroom. Sarah dug out the coffee pot and the canister and prepared them. As the pot began to crackle, she went into her bedroom and stripped out of her wet bathing suit. She wrapped her robe around her body and went back towards the kitchen, nearly colliding with Adam as he came out of the bathroom.

"Sorry," she said, and was suddenly aware of how close he was to her and how dark it was in the hall.

"My fault." His voice was odd, almost scratchy, like his throat was closing up.

Sarah inhaled sharply and squeezed past him. "I'll get you a cup."

He reached out and took her arm. She turned and was against the wall, his body close to hers.

"What are you running from?" he whispered, face close to hers, breath warm. One hand still rested on her arm, the other came up to cup her chin and drift to her collar bone.

"This," she answered.

He kissed her, and she felt her knees go weak. Bracing her self against the wall, Sarah kissed him back. It felt good, but it felt wrong at the same time. She thought this was what she wanted, but it wasn't enough. The passion wasn't the there. There was no fire, nothing to swallow her up. It was a good kiss, but it only reached the surface.

Suddenly the screen door banged, and Adam pulled away. Sarah stopped to see the King standing there, eyes ablaze, fists clenched. The wind blew all around him, sweeping his cape about. He stood there in full glory, hair wild, boots slick leather, anger wafting off him in a tangible essence.

"Shit." Adams fear was as tangible as the King's anger. "Sarah, I thought you said he wasn't your-."

"He's not." He wasn't but she still felt that she'd been caught doing something wrong. "You should go." He r voice was low. Adam looked at her, hurt and confused. When she didn't return his gaze, he swore under his breath and marched out the back door. It slammed behind him.

Sarah and the King stood looking at each other. The air was so thick with tension that you could slice it and serve it with ice cream. Finally, she could stand the silence no longer.

"What, Jareth? What did I do? Maybe I care for him. What then? What difference does that make to you?" Her words were spiteful, full of a hurt she had been trying to mask for so long.

"Are you really that daft?" He stepped closer to her. The heavy air shifted and Sarah gasped. "Have I not offered you my kingdom?"

"I don't want your damn castle! I don't care about being the Queen of some magical land, not any more. Never once have you promised yourself, Jareth. How am I supposed to feel about that?" Her eyes stung.

"Sarah," his voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes shining. "I have cared for you from the moment I saw you. Ever since, all I have wanted to do was give you the world. You think this is easy for me? I wanted to kill him when I saw the way he looked at you. It might have been dark that night on the porch, but I am not blind. You are mine, Sarah, you always have been. How can I stand by and let some mortal take my rightful place?"

"Really, Jareth? Because I don't think you care half as much as you say you do!" Her voice was getting louder; she was nearly yelling at him. The tears were on her cheeks now, there was no hiding them. "Prove it to me Jareth. Prove to me that you are mine!"

She was suddenly in the King's arms, held there firmly but gentle. "I love you," he whispered, and then he kissed her.

Author's Second note: OH SNAP! What's gonna happen next!!!!!???? Any guesses? Anyone? There's virtual blackberry cobbler in it for you...

The next chapter's already half done, but I couldn't give it away that easy. Gotta make you wait for it. Stay tuned...


	7. Valentine Evenings

_**Authors note and Disclaimer:**__ So sorry about the extended wait, lovelys. I had to reformat my computer after one of my stupid roomies download something with a virus. But I am currently back up and running. Yay. Unfortunately, school has just started, and with that a work, Chapters will be probably down to once week. Oh well, can't rush greatness._

_I don't own the Labyrinth. Big surprise. _

_Just the same, ENJOY!_

**Chapter 7: Valentine Evenings:**

She felt boneless, a weightless feather floating along the breeze. Sarah drifted between the sheets, the Kings warm body beside her. She lay there, languid from their love making, her mind playing catch up with her body. What had happened had happened so fast. Dawn had broken along the mountain ridge, and the bedroom was cast in a pinkish glow. They had made love for hours, until it felt like centuries since their bodies had been apart. The stars were vanishing from the heavy night sky as they finally ceased, burning hunger sated, for the time being. Jareth had fallen asleep, but Sarah lay awake, even now, unable to move, but unable to sleep. Her body felt odd and liquid. Jareth had not been her first, for she had made her mistakes, as was to be expected. But she had never experienced it like she had with the King. She had never felt such passion, something so like love that it must be in league with it. She yawned, stretching, and rolled to look out the window. As her eyes danced over the landscape visible to her, she began to feel the first tugs of sleep. Drowsily, she reached up and pulled the curtain closed. Her dreams took her then, sweeping her along the gentle current of sleep.

Perfection. That was the only thing he could think upon looking at her. She lay sleeping, as if she had been for ages. Jareth longed to touch her, brush the dark hair from her face, kiss her cheek, but he feared he'd wake her. Her lips twitched, her eyes fluttered, and he knew she was dreaming. Birds sang out side; the morning was cool, leaving the dew on the grass. He climbed from the bed, shivering as he left her side. He would let her sleep.

A wonderful smell greeted her the moment she awoke. Stretching and letting out a small groan, she threw back the covers and swung her feet over the side of the bed. Her robe lay in a pile on the floor, and she swept it on over her chilled body. Sarah wondered out into the kitchen, following the smell that made her stomach growl. The sight that met her was a comical one.

Jareth stood, staring idly at the waffle maker, waiting impatiently for the green light to come on. His boot clad foot tapped in annoyance. The kitchen walls were spattered with batter, and there were several bowls of batter lying about, one tipped onto the floor. She tried not to laugh, but it came out anyways. The King's head flew up, his disheveled hair a wild main framing his face.

As their eyes met, Sarah felt her body sway, the liquid feeling returning to her limbs. The night before rushed back in memories of flesh on flesh. She gasped for breath, the room spun, and her knees gave. Suddenly he was before her, his hand at the small of her back. He was the only thing keeping her from hitting the floor.

"Good morning, love," he said, standing her upright.

"Hi." It was all she could say before he kissed her. It was of gentle nature, far from the bruising kisses of the night before. It was, however, a pleasant reminder.

As Jareth looked into Sarah's eyes, he saw the potential to get lost in them. He could lose it all for this girl and it wouldn't even phase him. He would give up his kingdom just to keep her smiling. He had never felt this before, and he had lived countless years in mortal time. He looked away as the reality of his feelings suddenly became tangible. He turned his head quickly, but not before Sarah saw the panic in his eyes. She reached up and had his head in her hands before he could think. She smiled, and he couldn't help but do the same.

"Go back to bed. I have a surprise for you." He smiled again.

Sarah peered over his shoulder at the mess behind him, but didn't have the heart to refuse. The smile on his face was a much different smile than those from before. There was youth in his face, and trust. It was something she had never seen on him before, and she didn't want to chase it away.

She allowed him to lead her to the bed and cover her. He kissed her on the forehead and disappeared back into the kitchen. Sarah sat there, not sure exactly what to do. She had the strangest feeling she was being tamed. She was eating regular meals, and she'd already gone up a jean size; a whopping size three. She was smiling more, and she was sleeping better. Was she in love?

The Goblin King slipped back into the room, setting before with great flourish the perfect waffle. It was that rare golden brown, with slices of peach on top and butter running down the sides.

"I didn't know you could cook." She took a bite. It tasted as perfect as it looked.

"You seem to underestimate me, my love. I am an excellent cook. One has to be when living in a castle of goblins."

"I suppose. Well, I hope you clean as well as you cook." She smiled at him.

The King laughed. "Ah, yes, the kitchen. Well, it had to be the perfect waffle."

"Of course." Everything about him had to be perfect. For being the King of the Goblins, he himself was incredibly immaculate.

Sarah looked down at her plate, dark hair falling across her face, and began to cut another bite. It was then that she noticed the peach, really noticed it. She frown, looking up at him.

"What is it?" he asked.

"A _peach_? Really, Jareth. Did it have to be a peach?"

It took the King a moment, but realization finally reached his eyes. He gave her a hurt look, but there was a smile playing at the corners of his lovely mouth. "Sarah, really, now that hurts. Besides, darling, we both know I don't need poison peaches these days. Last night was enough of a fantasy for me."

Sarah gave him one of her 'drop-dead' looks, but her heart wasn't in it. She wondered if she'd ever be able to get mad at him again. "Well, I could try, but I really don't think I can argue with that one." She grinned.

He kissed her, quickly and playfully. Before she could snatch him and kiss him again, he was gone, disappearing into the kitchen to scrub his mess.

Sarah finished her waffle in silence. She smiled to her self. He had no idea what a walking ideal he was. Pure indulgence.

Trouble was stirring, a palpable sensation crawling across old, wrinkled skin. The aged scholar could feel it as he strapped his belongings to his mares saddle. She whinnied, low and soft. She could sense it as well, and she was nervous, stamping her hooves impatiently. Bartholomew mounted the mare and rode from the castle as fast as she could carry him. As they entered the woods, an anxious feeling accosted him, and he shuddered. _What have I done?_

Little silver fish shimmered below her, dancing through the water like underwater fairies. Sarah felt the pressure in her lungs heighten, and she let the air out of them in bubbles that rose above her head. One more glance downward at the moving specs of silvery light, and she pushed her way to the surface.

Sarah emerged, wiping lake water from her eyes. She smoothed her hair and turned to swim towards the dock, only to see the Goblin King watching her, long legs folded beneath him. She smiled as she swam up to him and grasped the dock. She folded her arms under her chin, legs treading the water around her, and smiled up at him. He smiled back and leaned down to trace fingers across her cheek. He brought his face close to hers, lips mere inches away. Sarah felt tingles from her head all the way down to the tips of her slightly pruned toes. He smiled as he brought their lips together. When he pulled away, Sarah nearly slid under the water.

"My love?" He began.

"Hmm?" She felt oddly light. It was hard to focus on him.

"I must leave you for a brief while. I am needed in the Underground. Think you can manage a few hours alone?"

"Hmm, I don't know. I suppose I'll have to."

He extended a hand and pulled her from the water. She shivered, but he had a warm b\dry towel ready, which he folded around her. They walked back to the house together. He let her go up the steps first, and as Sarah turned to speak to him, he was gone. She sighed. Shaking her head, she went inside.

Malakie stood in the throne room, a few of his best men with him, clad in armor, posture tense. He had called for his King nearly an hour ago, and Jareth had yet to show. Suddenly, there was a crack of light and smoke billowed out from the center of the room. The men sheilded their eyes in surprise, stepping back. Malakie swallowed. The King was angry. There was never smoke unless he was angry.

Jareth loomed before them, clad in black from shoulder to boot. His eyes were a storm all in their own. "Where is Bartholomew?" His voice was deeper, his rage stemming from the very core of him. There was a crackling about his presence.

"Your Highness, before you get angry-."

"Malakie, I am past angry. Now, I'll ask you one last time. Where is he"?

"He left to join Dantes. He was apprehended early this morning returning to the castle with maps, my Lord. He has been selling war information to Dantes in hopes of being returned to the Elven lands upon the wars end. He is a traitor, Sire, and we wished to jail him. He pleaded an audience with the King, and then he fled before we could call upon you."

Malakie braced himself for the King's wrath, but none came. Instead, Jareth turned to face his throne, pondering this recent information. When he turned back to him, the pain of betrayal was in his eyes. "Find him. Send four men on horse back to fetch him. No centaurs, for they are easier to track. We will make sure he gives the vigilantes no further information."

"Aye. You heard him," Malakie snapped at his second in command. "Ready the four and be gone with them, for we haven't much time."

The soldiers turned to go, but the King stopped Malakie. "Leave us," he said to the others.

When they were gone, he turned and slumped into his throne, head in his hands. Malakie stood, not knowing what to do other than wait for his king to speak. He swished his tail in nervousness. He was a centaur, one of the biggest and strongest of his race, and he was a fierce warrior. He respected the Goblin King greatly, but knew Jareth was troubled. One would be expected to be when ruling such an ungodly place.

"Malakie, am I a cruel King?"

The great beast paused to read his face. "No. You are only harsh when time and circumstance call for it."

"I hold no one against their will, yet they leave me as if I were some unspeakably cruel tyrant." Jareth sighed.

"Some fear commitment to a cause greater than themselves. Others will fight for what they believe in. If they are cowards, they need not be present anyways."

The King looked at his warrior, and his friend. "You are a bold man, Malakie."

"Because I follow one, Sire."

The Kings smiled was faint and pained. "Yes, well, I fear that my time as your leader is about to be challenged, my friend."

"Then we will fight them, my lord. We will pain our fields in their blood to remind others of the power that dwells here."

Jareth looked up, and saw blood lust in Malakie's eyes, finding they matched his own. If he went to war, it would not be with far away lands. No, it would be much closer to home.

Sarah stepped from the steaming shower and dried her reddened flesh. She slipped her robe on, and reach for the door knob. As her fingers grazed the metal, she felt an odd sort of current glide up and through her fingers. A kind of uneasy warning, and it felt like fire as it reached her toes. Her limbs felt odd, as if they didn't want to carry her forward. She let her hand drop, shaking herself. She reached again and threw the door the open. It was then that she smelled it: an odd earthy smell mixed with metal and sweat. She tightened her robe and stepped from the bathroom. She saw movement to the right, and as she whirled, she saw him. The man that stood there was clad in armor not of this world, and the anger that burned from his very presence nearly knocked her over.

"Who-."

She didn't have time to panic as he rushed her. His arms were around her, holding her firmly and painfully. Sarah screamed, and he clamped his hand over her mouth.

"Underground, now!" He shouted, and the world around her went black

_**Another Authors note: Wahhhhh another cliff hanger! Ah, you know you love the suspense. Okay kids, the more reviews, the longer the next chapter. So just hit that little button and show some love. :)**_


	8. Hostage!

_Author's note: Thanks to all the readers who have stuck with me since I posted the first chapter, and to the ones who just started reading. Hopefully I continue to entertain you. Once again, I do not own the Labyrinth. Duh. Tell me something I don't know. _

_**Chapter 8: Hostage.**_

Her head throbbed. Fire blazed across her mind, washing the blackness behind her eyes out in white light. She groaned, and pain echoed down through her ribs to her feet. She opened her eyes, unable to see well or focus on her blurry surroundings. She braced her self to sit up, but she tried, the pain tore through her, this time more intense, ripping a sob from her mouth. She fell back against the rough surface she lay on. Tears streamed her face as she lay there, shuddering, calling his name.

The King felt it as soon as it happened. He was on horse back, staring out at the ocean beyond the Labyrinth. The sand was a pure crystalline powder, more like snow than crushed rocks and shells. His stallion, Loki, whinnied softly as the wind picked his main off his neck and tossed it about. Jareth was pondering the war, and what it would mean to go into battle. It was then that he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen. It carried upwards, to the base of his neck. He brought his hand up to the back of his head, and then the panic struck his gut. Something was terribly wrong. He doubled over, crying out, gasping for air. She was hurt, scared, and in danger. He turned and rode in blind fury back to the castle.

Bartholomew parted the leather curtain of the tent and stepped inside. As soon as he saw her, fear struck his heart. She was clearly unwell. Distraught and unwell.

"How long has she been like this?"

Dantes sat in the corner, chin in his hand, elbows on his knees. "Since we arrived." She was frantic, so I drugged her."

"You what?" The sage gasped.

"It was mild, Bartholomew. I am not cruel. Not that cruel. Can you help her?"

"I can try. But, I suggest you leave. She may start if she comes to and the man who nearly killed her is in the room."

Dantes looked as though he wanted to retaliate, but instead he nodded and left swiftly.

The aged scholar looked at the poor dark haired girl writhing before him. She was sobbing, and she was saying something, but it was horribly gargled. Bartholomew leaned in.

"What is it child? What?"

"Jareth." She cried out, reaching blindly.

"Oh you poor thing. No, my dear, not anymore. But I will help you."

He retrieved his bag and went to work, mixing some rather pungent herbs together. He boiled water over the fire in the center of the room, steeping the package of mixed herbs into it until he held a most fragrant tea. He sat before her and pulled her until she was propped upon his knee. As he slowly but surely fed her the tea, he began to wonder what would really become of this situation. Jareth would kill for this girl, and he knew it.

He appeared in a swirl of the blackest smoke in the middle of the living room. As it cleared, he stormed through the house, but Sarah was no where to be seen. Jareth cried out in frustration as he noticed the muddy boot prints on the carpet, much to big to be from her. He pounded a gloved fist against the wall and swore. They had taken her, and it was then he realized he wouldn't cease until he found her. Dantes had wanted a war, and now he was getting one.

She was coming around. Bartholomew said a silent prayer of thanks that he wouldn't have to bury the King's lover. She was an awful pretty thing, and he couldn't blame the King for fancying her. She groaned and opened her eyes. At first she looked about, confused, until the memories of her kidnaping washed through her.

Panic was suddenly the only thing Sarah felt. Fear pounded her heart nearly through her chest. She saw the old man sitting there by the fire, looking at her with sad eyes.

"Where am I?" she demanded.

He shook his head and climbed to his feet. He left the tent quickly, and seconds later another man appeared. This was the man that had grabbed her, drugged her. She screamed and flew to her wobbly feet. He reached a hand out to say something, but she had backed herself into a corner and was looking at him like a wounded gazelle.

"You stay the fuck away from me!" She growled at him.

"Whoa, now hold on. I didn't hurt you, and I don't plan to. I am Dantes. I am leading this Kingdom to war."

"Really, and did someone die and make you king?" She spat.

He raised a brow. She was smarter than he's assumed. She was a feisty, pretty thing, and he had the strangest desire to run his fingers through that long dark hair. He shook the image from his head, turning his focus on how to calm her. "Please, understand that I do not wish to harm you. You are merely a pawn, my dear, and as soon as I get what I want, you are free to go."

She glared at him, and it was like daggers flying into his chest. "And what is it that you want?"

"Why, war, of course. Or hasn't your King told you what a coward he has become."

"The only coward I know of is the very one standing before me." Her voice was full of venom. She would kill him in her sleep if she had the chance.

"Well, I haven't turned my back on this war as the Goblin King has. People are dying."

Suddenly she was a moving blur flying past him. She was out the tent before he realized what was even happening. He whirled and flew out after her. Sarah rocketed towards the area where the men had tied their horses. Dantes barreled after her. She hurled herself atop one of the more rowdy mares, tugging on the rope until the horse was free.

"Yah!" she shouted, and the mare tossed her main and turned t bolt from the camp.

Dantes had the mares reigns before Sarah could blink. The horse tossed her head and neighed in frustration, but he held firm. Sarah snarled at him and her foot swung out, kicking him hard in the collar bone. Dantes growled and grabbed her ankle. She kicked him with her other foot, hard enough to make him let go. Shaking himself, he reached up and grabbed her wrist with one hand while still holding the horses reigns with the other. Sarah screamed and scratched him. By now the men had gathered to watch the spectacle, and their laughter fueled Dantes rage even more

She struggled, pulling away so hard that she could feel the flesh on her arm bruising. Suddenly, Dantes fist flew up, and she felt thunder against the side of her head, stars shooting across her vision. She went limp, sliding from mares back. He caught her and turned towards his men, a scowl on his face.

"All right, you imbeciles have seen enough! Don't you have armor to be polishing somewhere?"

With groans and swears, the men disbursed. Dantes carried the limp figure back into his tent and laid her on the blanket by the fire. She was scowling, even in her sleep. He smiled. This was to be an interesting time.

Goblin Kings don't cry. At least, they don't cry where anyone can see or hear them. Jareth was no different. Holed up in his study with a fire crackling in the stone fireplace, and maps spread out before him. But the tears came, no matter how hard he tried to distract himself. It was hopeless. His army was at a standstill, refusing to fight their own men, even though the Kingdom was obviously divided. In frustration, he swept his arm across the table, sending the maps into the air. He walked to the window, starring out into the dark night. The rain pattered down, the cobblestone streets slightly flooded in the city below him. The was so much more at risk than he had initially realized. Dantes wasn't to be underestimated, as he had made quite clear. The King turned ans strode to the door. His mind was made up. He would find the camp on his own, and retrieve own his own.

As he left the castle, cloaked in black from head to boot, his anger was a palpable taste on the tongue. Malakie watched from the castle as his King vanished into the stables. Moments later, the black-as-night Loki could be heard neighing in anticipation as his King saddled him. Hooves were a thunderous sound as Jareth disappeared into the night.

Sarah awoke to find her arms and legs bound with twine. She swore and struggled for a bit. They were good strong knots, and it was futile battle. She gave up and lay still. The tent flap parted, and her captor and the old man came in. She closed her eyes, feigning sleep, in hopes of learning something useful.

"Dantes, good gods, was it necessary to hit the girl?" Bartholomew asked.

"To be fair, she had no qualms about hitting me."

"She was frightened."

"Well, she should be. I could break her like a twig."

"We both know you wouldn't."

"Yes, well, don't be so sure. Moving on, what's our next step?"

"Moving camp," Bartholomew said, moving to brew some tea.

"We are only three days travel outside the Elven lands. There is no way the King will reach us in time."

"Jareth is not one to be underestimated, and you know it. He is dangerous Dantes, and he is hunting you. I have felt it since the moment you brought that girl to this camp." The deep creases in the old man's face were getting deeper as his thoughts turn to the consequences of his actions if he was caught.

Dantes put a hand on the old mans shoulder. "He will not punish you, for I will protect you. You have done me a great service and nothing shall happen to you."

"It is not me I fear for, Dantes." The old man poured the tea into two wooden cups and handed one to the man next to him.

"I know." Dantes sighed. "I don't want to harm the girl, Bartholomew. Hopefully it wont go that far."

"And if it does?"

"Then she will die for the country of the man she loves."

They left the tent moments later. Sarah opened her eyes, fear creeping into her heart. _Where are you, Jareth?_

The sun was breaking against the mountains when he finally pulled Loki to a halt at a stream bank. He let the horse drink and rest, splashing his own face with the cold water. He looked about, smelling the air, tasting the rain of the oncoming storm. The clear sky gave no hints, but that night would be a chaotic one. He walked over the one of the trees lining the bank and sat beneath it, leaning against the gnarled trunk. Sleep came swiftly. Loki settled in the long grass to watch over his King.

Sarah had managed to sit up by the time Dantes entered the tent. She glared at him.

"Feeling more amiable I see." The sarcasm was thick in his voice.

Sarah swallow the juvenile desire to stick her tongue out at him. "What do you want?"

"Well, we are moving on, and I need to pack you up. But seeing as you are prone to kicking, I going to have to leave you tied up and strap you to a horse."

"Do it then, but I am not making your life any easier."

He strode over to her and crouched down so that he could look into her dark eyes. They blazed with fire, and her hatred for him was obvious. "I f I did what I wanted, girl, I'd have broken your arms and legs and you wouldn't be going anywhere. So you have two choices: you behave and let me put you on a horse, or I snap your limbs and tie you upside down from my own saddle." This only made her glare more. "Well, love, which is it?"

She said nothing, but didn't move either. "Good girl," he said and pulled her to her feet by her arm.

He reached down with his knife and cut the twin at her ankles. He then led her outside. Upon entering the sunlit clearing, she squinted, her eyes watering. Looking around, she saw an entire encampment staring at her. The were centaurs, elves, fae, and several kinds of shape shifters. She was led to a dappled grey mare with soft eyes and a pleasant disposition. Dantes's hands came around her waist as he lifted her onto the mare. He bound her hands to the saddle horn and then preceded to tie one foot to each stirrup.

"There, now you're all set." He smiled at her and she wished desperately that she could kick him in the face.

The men gathered as they discussed plans with their leader. Sarah saw the old sage emerge from his tent. He looked up and met her gaze with sad eyes. Sarah smiled in spite of herself. After all, he'd been the only one to show her any kindness since she had arrived. He turned away and joined the men at the camps large fire. She sighed. Nearly thirty minutes passed before the camp broke and the men mounted. Tents were in roles strapped to the backs of pack horses. The fires were put out, and all signs of the army were destroyed. Dantes tied her horses reigns to his own and mounted his glossy white mare.

"Onward!" He shouted, and the men gave responsive cry. And they were off.

Jareth awoke to a distant cry. Dantes. He jumped to his feet as Loki did the same. The horse shook the gathered due from it's coat and neighed softly.

"Ride on, and meet me. I will catch you." Jareth spoke in hushed tones. The horse tossed it's head in comprehension.

Loki waited until his King took the form of a large owl before he took off into the forest, following the scent of others like him. Jareth soared high, over the trees and rivers, against the cold air. He flew for what seemed like seconds before his keen vision detected mass movement on the land below him. He saw the army. He flew until he reached the front of the march, and there he saw his rival, and then his love. Sarah was strapped to her horse, looking rather angry. He wanted desperately to swoop down and peck the eyes from the head of the vigilante leader. Instead he flew lower, hidden from view by a line of trees. To his left, further into the woods, he could see Loki keeping pace. He flew lower until he was level with Sarah. He could see her face more clearly now, and he could see the tears brimming her eyes. Anger surged through him. He could confront this army now, not alone. But he had to let her know he was there, watching, waiting until the time was right. He could think of nothing other than making himself visible to her, and therefore to Dantes as well. But if he were fast about it, he wouldn't appear to be anything but a barn owl.

Jareth took a breath and swooped out before the horse. Dantes's mare spooked and kicked. Dantes tugged her reigns and cooed softly at her. Sarah's gaze followed the white blur into the woods, and then up. Her heart soared with that feathered creature when she realized who it was. A smile broke as she gazed up at her King. But then her gaze fell away as she realized she could easily give him away. She kept her gaze straight ahead, but her heart was lighter.

Jareth smile to himself, for it had worked. She knew he was watching out for her. He swooped down into the woods, and by the time he alighted on Loki's back, he was in human form again. He then changed course, veering west away from the north bound army. If his own army would not help him, he would find one that would. He rode swift and hard towards the dark lands before him.


	9. Yea, though I walk through the shadow of

_**Authors note: Yes, this chapter is brief, your punishment for the lack of reviews on chapter 8. Hahaha. Oh and that whole school being a priority thing, since it will eventually make me money and this wont. I hate college. Anyways, here it is, the short but sweet Chapter 9. Enjoy lads and ladies! **_

**Chapter 9: Yea, Though I Walk Through the Shadow of the Valley of Death...**

Jareth could feel the power tickling across his skin as if it were a thick fog. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He shuddered, but forced Loki on. The stallion struggled against the will of his master. He didn't wish to be anywhere near this land of darkness, and he too could feel the power breeze over him. Soon the woods broke and they were standing atop a mountain, and in the valley below them was shadow. Ahead lay the land of the Unseenlings. These unholy beings were ruled by a dark elf, an out cast from her own land. She ruled the creatures of the night, the ones that crept into your dreams and made you cry out in your sleep. They were the terrors that lurked in dark places and avoided day light. Demons, ghouls, gremlins, and other creatures swayed by the dark side.

Loki would not ride on, even as Jareth urged him. Finally the King dismounted, overcome by frustration.

"If you will not accompany me, then I shall go on alone." He gave the horse a pat and left him there.

Loki neighed. "Wait for me," came the reply, and as the dark shape of an owl lifted into the dusky sky, Loki said a silent prayed for its return.

Sarah was sore and agitated by the time the camp was set. Dantes, not trusting her, and wise not to, had left her tied to horse until the tent was ready. As he lifted her off the mare, she doled out a swift kick in the groin. Crying out, he dropped her and cupped himself. She scrambled, trying with all her might to untie herself. But he recovered much too quick, and he seized her up by her hair and shook her. She refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry. He lifted her and carried her into the tent, where he dropped her on the floor and left promptly. She swore and spat, glowering. Tears were on her cheeks when the strange woman entered the tent. She was dressed in gauzy green fabric that hung about, just covering what it needed to. Down one side of her face were swirled tattoos that traveled form her forehead down her neck to her wrist. They started again on her left breast and down to her toes. Her eyes were a stunning honey color, amber in the light, and her hair was the whitest of blond, so much so it was nearly just white. Sarah stared at her, in spite of her surroundings, taken aback by this ethereal creature. The woman came closer and Sarah realized her ears were long and slender, pointed at the top.

"Who are you?"

"My name doesn't translate well, dear, but you may call me Fee."

"What do you want?" Sarah had her guard up again, and she wasn't about to let Fee's pretty face fool her.

"Well, how about a bath and some real clothes? Dantes sent me, as he is some what of a gentleman, and doesn't wish to take you to bathe himself." Her smile was a playful one, and Sarah smiled in return, for what seemed like the first time in a century.

Fee walked to her an knelt down. She untied the bounds and helped Sarah to stand. Having been restrained for such a time, she stumbled legs wobbling, unsure of how to step and not fall. Fee helped her to the tents entrance, leading her outside. Sarah thought briefly of bolting into the woods, of losing them among the trees and hiding until dawn. It was then that she felt the chill of the night against her skin, heard the wild noises of the forest. It was then that she realized that she had no where to go. She would likely freeze or be eaten once alone, and she was miles upon miles away from anywhere or anyone who could help.

"I know of a heated spring not far from here. Come on." Fee slung the pack sitting outside the tent over her shoulder and led Sarah away down a woodland path.

Sarah gazed over her shoulder at the blazing bonfire and the men around it. Dantes's dark eyes were upon her, and from the bottle in his hand and the stench in the air, he was drunk. His eyes shined as they met hers. She felt him drink her in as he did the whisky in that bottle. His lust was a stench not unlike that of his drunkenness. She looked away and followed Fee into the night.

Jareth came upon the fallen gates of the city before him. Decay was a thick scent in the air. Death lay evident all around him, in the skulls and burnt buildings surrounding the outskirts. He felt the sword at his side, comforted by it's presence. There was a slithering sound to his left, and as he whirled, something arose on the right. His sword was drawn, and the great serpent lay severed before it could even strike. Swearing, he made his way down the rust colored cobble stones.

Fee led her to the waters edge, bending to test it with a timid finger. She smiled. "It is warm." She reassured Sarah.

Untiing her ragged and dirty robe, Sarah stepped into the water, feeling the warmth spread upward. Sighing, she submerged her self completely. She held her breath as long as she could, but then she began to scrub. Her body was covered in scrapes and bruises, and she had a black eye from one of Dantes's ungentlemanly moments. Fee busied herself with the braiding of small sections of her ice blond hair. Sarah stayed in the water until she was a prune. When she finally climbed out, Fee handed her a piece of soft linen to dry off with from the pack she carried. Sarah dried off while Fee politely averted her eyes. She then handed Sarah the soft leather leggings and long dark blue shirt. Soft leather moccasins completed the outfit. The two women walked slowly and silently back to the camp. Sarah couldn't help but smell the trouble in the air.

The ancient castle was dark and decaying. Moss covered stones rose to the sky in spirals and towers. It had once been grand, as the Goblin King well remembered, but those days were long over. There were no more balls full of young royals looking to be wed. There were no more scandals to be had in its many bedrooms, no more passionate and forbidden kisses on it's balconies. The velvet tapestries were no doubt moth eaten, if not completely disintegrated. Sadness was a tangible sting in the air. You felt it when you breathed in through your nose, and your eyes would tear up. It was a taste on the back of your throat when gasping for air, a cloying scent, sweet, yet bitter.

He stood before the aged heap and sighed, reluctant to step foot inside. He knew of the evil that now possessed this place. She was a powerful adversary, but she was also swayed by the temptation of chaos and war. She thirsted blood. She was cruel, heartless, and mercy was a a long vacant hole in her eyes. But Jareth remembered when she was a pretty 15 year old princess with an imagination the size of the sky and a precocious disposition angering to any parent but at the heart of every boy. They had all loved her, even Jareth himself. He had begged to attend and affair she did, and he always made sure to get that last dance with her so that she would leave thinking only of him. But that happy time had ended in violence and tears, and the day was a dark cloud hanging over that castle ever since.

Suddenly the great doors swung open and the building seemed almost to cough as dust rose and escaped through the opening. He was jarred from his memories, attention drawn back to the darkness stretching out towards him. He walked, as if in a trance, to the doors and entered the castle. They closed behind him, slowly, as if giving him time to change his mind. He let them swing shut and cast his in darkness. Letting his eyes adjust, he stood very still, hearing nothing but his own breath and his immortal heart pounding. Something brushed the stairs to his right, and as he turned to see, fear crept into him. She stood there, silent on the stairs, cloaked in dark, but there was fire blazing from her eyes.

"Is that your heart, my King? Or mine?"

"You don't have one left, Morrigan, and you know it."

She descended slowly, frighteningly comfortable in the darkness. Jareth felt the dark power wavering off her, the small, subtle vibrations against his skin. He wanted to back away from her, but that would advertise his weakness, and he wasn't about to let her know how badly she frightened him.

She was mere feet away. He struggled to stay standing as her power pushed at him. Not knowing what else to do, he let his own power creep out to mingle with hers. She pushed back, but he pushed harder. Finally he felt hers fade, creep down to a bare minimum. She hadn't had to control it for so long that she couldn't shut it off completely.

"Why have you come to me, Goblin King?"

"I need your help. Vigilantes have brought war to my people, and my men will not fight their brothers. I need your army to go forth and finish these traitors so I can end the threat of war on my people."

"And why would I help you, dear King. There is nothing that I gain. And I don't like wasting my time."

"Chaos feeds your power, and you know it. You love the scent of death and blood. You live to kill others."

Then why shouldn't I kill you here and now and have what I want without trying?" She snarled at him.

"Because," he reached up to brush the gnarled hair from her face. It was black in the dark, but he knew that in the sun, it blazed the color of blood, or burgundy wine. "Because some where in there, is a scared little girl who longs for interaction with others who wont harm her. Come fight with me, Morrigan, because your soul is on it's death bed and it will take you with it."

She closed her eyes, those endless black holes so easy to get lost in. She breathed in, and let it out soft and slow before she looked at him again. "I will gather them and meet you at the Ruins on tomorrow's sunset."

Joy spread through him. Sarah would again be in his arms, and Dantes's blood on his hands.

"Leave before I change my mind."

And he did. To his surprise, Loki was waiting outside for him. The King laughed and ruffled the stallions mane as he mounted.

From the tallest tower, a figure watched the King and his steed ride away. Sadness swept through her, and she longed to be with him, riding free from the chains of her past.

_**A/N #2: Ooo spooky evil chick with a past. My favorite kind. Do we like Morrigan? Yay or nay. Who wants to learn more about her? Show of hands. Remember, the more reviews, the longer the chapter... So start typing loveys. Cheerio!**_


	10. Wearing the Inside Out

_**Author's Note: Chap 10 is here, kids, and sense you asked for it, I gave you a peek into Morrigan's twisted past. Enjoy, and I expect a ton of reviews, or I willhold the next chapter ransom! **_

**Chapter 10: Wearing the Inside Out. **

The moon was cast in a blood-red tint, and Dantes felt the oncoming threat in the night air. He sat in silence by the dying fire, tracing shapes in the dirt with a twig, thinking of the girl in the tent behind him. She was so caught up in all the lies that damned King had been feeding her. Didn't she know that with immortality came the inability to truly and selflessly love. In the end, you are timeless and the one you love is not, so you don't love. Everything leaves, everything dies.

In a tattered castle in the dark some where, a former princess echoed the same words in her own thoughts. Everyone leaves, everyone dies; nothing is forever, not even happiness. Especially not happiness. These days, it was easier to never feel happy than to feel brief euphoria only to have it end. All that pain, all those years of a sadness and fear greater than thought possible, all was channeled into the dark well inside her. All her power flowed from there, all she was, all that was left. Morrigan felt herself fade back as she sat at the window, with its black tattered curtain blowing in the night breeze.

She looked down at her hands, as they rested in her lap. She lifted them to the dim light of the red moon, and she could see through them. There was a short time at night when her power would finally shut down, give her rest, momentary peace. All that was left after the power abandoned her body was an empty shell, a wavy form that was her being. When some one so dark hold on to their pain as long as she did, when they have molded into themselves to base a power so great off it, it becomes their essence. Her power was so much of her aura that when it left her, she herself was a thin film, a haze across the moon.

When her force left her, there was nothing to do but wait. There was time, and time meant thinking. And thinking meant reliving her past. Reliving those bloody days that made her who she was today. Those moments of terror that she memorized and made her own, those moments she turned around, turned into something useful. They would never take from her what they took that day. Not again. She had taken more from them than they had to give when she found them again.

Morrigan closed her vacant eyes, feeling the breeze pass through her. From the dark of her mind, she conjured up a time when life was nothing but sunshine. And then blood. But first there had been happiness.

The dark surrounded him, deep in the woods, alone save for Loki. In his hand was a crystal, and with in the crystal was the waning image of Morrigan. He watched her close her eyes, knew she was thinking of that time, just before the bloodshed. Jareth closed his eyes as well, letting his mind find hers in the past they shared, years upon years ago. And with her, he relived it.

_The Grand Ball was held on a hot summer night, somewhere in the middle of July, when youth is in blossom and lust is a force all it's own. Young royalty filled the halls and the ballroom, swaying, laughing, touching each other in dark corners. Dresses swished by, young women peeking over masks to tease the object of their affection. One in particular was stunningly beautiful, with hair the color of the fire that danced in her eyes. He was smitten from the moment they had met. She was the King of Dahlia's daughter, and this was to be her castle. He was the tall, lanky Prince of the Goblins, with an awkward laugh and unkempt hair. He was in sapphire blue, and she a shining red ruby that caught and held his attention as soon as he spotted her dancing. He pretended not to stare, but she caught him several times, as he danced with others. Finally, thin fingers encircled his wrist, and he was pulled from his partner in the red-gloved grasp of the little princess. _

"_Hi," she was the most beautiful creature in the room. _

"_Hello," he tried not to sound as nervous as he felt. His hands found her waist and they began to dance._

_As they spun about the room, she laughed and whispered things in his ear.He found_

_himself so in love with her that he didn't let her go when the next song began. She smiled._

"_It's my birthday you know."_

"_I know."_

"_How?"_

"_Because your father throws a ball for every birthday you've had since you could walk."_

"_I was dancing before I could walk."_

_He laughed and spun her faster. They danced until they were so dizzy they could barely stand, and she pulled him out onto one of the balconies for some air. _

"_You are amazing." He laughed, gasping the cold air into his lungs. _

"_What?" she asked, even though she had heard. _

"_You're amazing!" he shouted at the stars. _

_She threw her head back, laughing until tears came. Her laugh sounded like the music of heaven to his ears. He laughed with her. And then she kissed him. Morrigan felt that it was the bravest thing she had ever done in her short life. She kissed him on the mouth and he kissed her back. And they kissed until Jareth heard a strange noise below them. He pulled away, despite her disappointed grunt. _

"_Shhh," he cautioned her. _

_He peered over the balcony's edge, and below them, he saw men approaching the castle on foot. They wore armor, the first hint that they were not party guests. And from the large swords they wielded, they did not come to play nice. _

"_Run, Morrigan, tell your father!" _

_She was a red blur flying behind him as she raced for the ball room. Jareth took one last look, and as the fear crept through him, he turned and ran after her. _

"_Father!" And as she shouted, there were screams in the stair well and the sound of boots on the ivory stairs. _

_The King turned at his daughters frightened shouts, but the men that thundered into the room held his attention. _

_What happened next was a blur. The leader had the King on his knees before any one could call the guards, and another had the Queen with a knife at her throat. _

"_What do you want? Take the gold, take anything."_

"_We have come for one thing." The way the man spoke, with a deep guttural growl, Jareth new he wasn't human. He could see fangs, and the brow was oddly distorted._

"_What? Take anything!" _

_The leader gestured to one of his men, and the man nodded. Suddenly, his eyes were on Jareth. No behind him. Jareth felt Morrigan grab his hand. He turned to see her eyes go all big with fear, and as he turned back to face the man, a force came across the side of his jaw that knocked him flat. Stars shot everywhere from his vision. He heard Morrigan scream, and through the haze in his head, he saw the man grab her. She screamed again, kicking, but it was to no avail. _

_The leader growled again. "The prophecy shall never be fulfilled. If we are followed, I will kill her."_

_And then they were gone. The Queen screamed. And she didn't stop. Jareth heard her screams long after he left that night._

_This, however, was not the last bad day that this castle would witness. As it was later discovered, after the King called upon a seer to determine what prophecy the man had spoke of, that the truth about Morrigan's destiny was discovered. It was prophesied, that Morrigan would one day kill the Lord of the Darklands with the help of her father's army, and take his army and the Darklands for her own. The Lord was less than pleased when he learned of this, and so had sent his men to retrieve her and turn her to their side so she wouldn't be tempted to kill him. He knew she would be of great power, and he wanted to use that to his benefit._

_But as it turned out, Lord Demetrius's plan backfired horribly. He put Morrigan through hell to make her into some sort of vicious assassin. No one ever suspected a quiet girl, pale with red lips and hair would ever be a danger to any one. But she was. And on her sixteenth birthday, exactly one year later, she killed Demetrius with his own sword, which she buried deep into his gut as he slept. And as she watched his life fade, as he choked on the blood that bubbled from his lips, she smiled. She then licked the blood from his bottom lip, and as he cursed her with his last breath, she spat his own blood back into his face. _

_Morrigan's journey towards true evil didn't stop there. As it were, the King and Queen of Dahlia had mourned for some time over their lost daughter, until the Queen discovered she was pregnant. Meanwhile, Morrigan spent a year waging war on all of those threatening her lands now that Demetrius was dead. Her new army butchered all their enemies, with her leading the battle with Demetrius's very sword. It was during this time of uncontrolled rage that she learned of the birth of a princess in a land so familiar. And on the day of little Merriwyn's first birthday, her sister stormed the castle where she had once ran wild. Jareth himself was there, with many others from her childhood. The only thing he heard before he saw her was screaming as the doors burst open and the hall was flooded with creatures of great and uncontrolled evil. As he set eyes on his childhood love, Jareth didn't even know her, not at first. The fire in her eyes was gone, replaced with a bloodlust greater than that of anyone he's ever met. Her hair was no longer the color of fire, but the color of blood. Her skin was white as marble, with muscle that rippled underneath, betraying her hidden strength. _

_The King lay eyes on his long lost daughter, tears forming in his eyes as the realization hit him. Her mother gasped. _

"_Morrigan, darling?"_

_Those were the great King's last words, as Morrigan swung her twin swords and beheaded him in front of his own guests. As party goers fled in confusion and fear, screaming, Morrigan went on to slaughter her mother and baby sister in one breath. No one returned to the castle to clean the carnage or assess the damage. No one challenged anyone for the lands. Morrigan had taken what was meant to be hers. And she had never been the same..._

The reverie ended as Morrigan felt her power rejoin with her body, the blackness and what was left of her soul becoming one yet again. Jareth felt it too; the surge of power carried through the night on the breeze. He shuddered, for she was the most powerful thing he had ever felt. Her magic was dark, full of death and shadow. She frightened him, and the Goblin King does not scare easy.

His thoughts turned to some one of a lighter disposition, but still with darkness lying beneath it. Sarah was a much different girl than the one that had wished away her crying brother at the age of 15. Her life had taken a darker path than he would have liked for her, with the drugs and self-deprecation. Had she been exposed to what Morrigan had, he feared she too would be a creature of the dark, some so angry and powerful that it consumed them. Soon, Morrigan's power would be all there was to her, and the soul would completely evaporate. She would be as good as dead. He feared bringing Sarah in such close contact with someone so like what she could become. Would she be swayed? Was she naturally dark, or conditioned that way based on what she had been through? There was no way of truly knowing.

The King sighed and closed his eyes. Sleep was a far off dream, but he would try. Far off some where in the dark, he heard a screech owl cry, and a wolf howl. He prayed to gods he didn't even believe in that some one was keeping Sarah safe.

Some where in the dark, a screech owl sounded, and Sarah sat up abruptly from sleep. The tent was dark and she was alone, but the feeling that she was being watched made the fine hair on her arms stand up. She stood, as she was no longer being bound, and walked outside. The moon cast a bluish light over the ground, and the line of trees was as clear as if the sun had been out. She thought briefly of running, of letting the wind carry her far from here. Even if she got lost, she'd be free.

"Don't even think about it." A voice to her right startled her.

Dantes stepped from the shadows. Her eyes were wide with fear as they settled on the knife at his hip. She swallowed and looked him in the eyes, narrowing her own.

"You don't scare me. You will die for what you have done."

"Maybe so," he took a few steps, coming closer to her. She ignored the urge to back up. "But at least I will die as a brave man, unafraid of war and death."

"You will die a fool and your name will die with you."

He walked right up to her and cuffed her across the jaw. Sarah crumpled to the ground. She shook herself and glared up at him through her mass of dark hair.

"Feel better now? Wow, you really shut me up." She climbed slowly to her feet, never taking her eyes off them. Blood was filling her mouth from where she had bit her tongue. She spat it on his boots.

Dantes made an angry sound from his throat, and that anger flashed in his eyes and he struck her again, harder. Sarah stumbled back, but kept her footing this time.

"So you can hit me. Big deal. I'm smaller than you. Am I really a big challenge? Keep hitting, I'll keep getting up and pissing you off. You'll get tired eventually, and I'll have won."

He came at her, and suddenly his hands were around her throat, tightening. She could breath, but she wouldn't be able to much longer.

"I could kill you right now, and no one would do anything." His breath was hot on her face and he reeked of alcohol.

"What are you so afraid of? That you'll lose your life over some girl instead of in this war you love so much? I die, you die, plain and simple." She choked on her words.

"I'll kill him before he can save you."

"Then I'll kill you."

He laughed. Blood was pooling at the back of her throat again, and Sarah coughed. He looked at her, and she spat it right in his smug face. He swore and dropped her. Sarah scrambled away, out of his reach.

"Damn woman, you are a devil of a thing." He wiped his face on the sleeve of his shirt and stomped his boots in the dirt. He looked at her, cowering on the ground in the dirt. She was afraid, but she would fight back until he knocked her unconscious or killed her.

"Get up." He gestured at her. She stared at him, unmoving. "Get up out of the dirt, you stupid girl. I'm not going to hurt you." He walked over to her and held out his hand to help her up.

For a moment, she hesitated, wondering if he would help her up only to throw her back down. But when she looked in his eyes, she knew he wasn't lying. Sarah grasp his hand and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. She dusted herself off and stood, not really knowing what to do next.

Dantes preceded to sit by the dying fire, stirring the embers, catching the wood with a new flame. Sarah sat across from him, as the chill of night air had finally reached her. She stared at the fire and he stared at her. She could feel his eys, and when she finally met them, he didn't look away.

"Why this war?" She finally asked. "It's not a threat to you, and it is no where near the Goblin Kingdom. Why change that? War is not a good thing,"

He sighed. "The elves have been our allies in many a battle, and they are dying. They need our help. And our enemies wont stop once they finish them off. They are heading straight for the Goblin City, whether or not your King wishes to acknowledge it. I am not bringing war to the Underground, but I will fight to prevent it."

She was silent. If he was right, then why was Jareth so reluctant to fight. If these armies were really after the Underground, then why not kill them before they get to the heart of it? Would he wait until it was too late? She couldn't risk that. She had friends in the Goblin City that she cared about more than most of her family. She couldn't just sit back and let them die. But still, she didn't believe that the King would ignore a true threat. He had been the King many of her life times over, so he must be doing something right. So why ignore this threat? Why let this war come when he had prevented so many others?

She was silent after that. Dantes watched her for a while as she stared at everything but him. She really one of the most beautiful mortals he had ever seen. But she was dark. Her aura was a dark purple with red veins running through it. She was damaged. What had mere mortal endured to turn her aura that color? His own had lost most of it's purity, but he had done things mortal men couldn't imagine. There was something about her, that was obvious because the King had never fallen for a mortal, not that he had ever heard of.

Sarah looked at him. She could tell he was wondering about her. The curiosity was plain on his face.

"What the fuck are you staring at?" She snarled at him in the moonlight.

He was taken aback by her foul mouth and obvious lack of care about being a lady. "You are a rather vulgar heathen aren't you?"

"Why do you care?"

"As you may one day be a future Queen, your attitude is a concern of mine."

Sarah looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Since you plan on dethroning him, I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"I don't wish to dethrone you King, m'lady. I merely wish to pull the wool he has covered his own eyes with off and show him the war for what it is."

"And what is it? What makes it so different?"

"It's a threat we need to acknowledge and deal with, but it is also an opportunity to expand our control, our lands. We can better ourselves as a people with more land and more knowledge. People don't have to die, Sarah, we can learn from each other."

"How do you know my name?" She realized she hadn't exactly introduced herself.

"I know more about you than you may think, little heathen." He reached for a bottle setting in the dirt and ash by the hide he sat on. Taking a swig, he offered her the bottle.

Sarah wrinkle her nose but took it, wiping the mouth of it off before taking a swig her self. He laughed at that. The crude whisky burned it's way down to her stomach. She handed it back, hiding the fact she felt as if she'd swallowed paint thinner.

"Why?" She asked after a few moment and a few more sips. It went down smoother every time.

"Why what?" he asked, taking the bottle from her.

"Why are you doing this to me? Why do you care?"

"This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with your King."

"He won't surrender, even for me. He'll kill you and take me back and you'll have gained nothing but passage to the Underworld. Then wont you feel silly." Her words were slightly slurred, and she knew it.

"If he doesn't, surrender I mean, not even for you, then he doesn't deserve to have you anyways." Dantes was feeling rather intoxicated, and he knew he had to be careful of what he said, lest he give himself away. He was attracted to her, even though he wanted to kick the daylights out of her.

Sarah laughed as if that were the funniest thing she had ever heard. And laughed again too. And the more they drank, the more they laughed, and the more funny everything seemed. The stars above her head blurred, and the fire danced before her. Sarah's head spun. She closed her eyes and could see herself, years ago, dancing in a dress much to old for her, masked faces leering from every angle. They didn't go away when she opened her eyes.

The next thing she knew, Sarah woke up in her tent, bundled in blankets, the rising sun turning the sky a soft pink. She rolled over, away from the peeking light between the tent flaps, feeling groggy and disoriented. Her head throbbed, and her limbs felt oddly numb. She vaguely remembered the night before, and knew she had been extremely drunk. Feeling rather foolish, she buried her head under her blankets and fell back asleep.

He stood atop the mountain, staring into the valley below him. The sun had risen only hours before, and he had until sunset to wait. Still, he couldn't pull himself away from the circle of fallen stones, the remnants of an ancient castle rumored to be greater than his own. He turned away and walked back to where Loki stood, patiently grazing. He patted the horse and grazed his fingers across the old stone before him. He pressed his palm fully against it, closing his eyes and letting his power push against the memory around the rock. He could feel life, or the essence of life once lived at this spot. He could relive the energy that had once pulsed through these walls. There was a dying sense of celebration, but also of great sadness, not unlike that felt in Morrigan's castle. He opened his eyes and withdrew his gloved hand. Had his fingers been naked, he would have been swung into full-on visions of the past, carried along to relive moments in the lives of it's long dead possessors. He wasn't a fan of being sucked into someone else's past. He shook the tingles from his fingers. With nothing else to do, he returned to the edge of the cliff to sit against an old stump. He lifted his hand, and with a wave, a crystal in his hand. He tossed it into the air, catching it, and gazing into his depths. Her brown eyes appeared, and he settled back, to watch her, and to wait.


	11. See the Mice in Their Million Hordes

**Author's Note and Disclaimer: You all know I don't own the Labyrinth, so don't worry, I make no money from these tragic little tales. Sorry about the delay. I moved into a new apartment, and was behind on school and needed to get in gear before I could have fun. But here is the long awaited (humor me ok?) Chapter 11. See if you can guess what song I got the title from? Virtual blackberry cobbler to those who get it right! Enjoy:**

**Chapter 11: See the Mice in Their Million Hordes.**

The sun was nearly set, blood spilling across the horizon, purple tint on the sky. Even in the near dark, he could suddenly make out something dark filling in the line between sky and ground. At first he thought nothing of it, as it was a mere shadow on the immense landscape. But as it grew, his bored mind perked with curiosity. And then he felt it. It was faint at first, a minuscule hum along his arms, caressing his cheek. And as the shadow grew, his mind still failing to make the connection, the hum increased to a sensation that made his eyes water. It stung, and as the realization hit him, he jumped to his feet and flew to the edge of the cliff.

Jareth squinted, eyes straining to see what lay before him. He knew what it was, or rather, _who_ it was. He rubbed his arms, fighting down the tingles, pulling his shirt sleeves back down. The fading sun caught a glint of red at the head of the advancing shadow, and a smile crossed his lips. She always led her army, always fought along side her men. She was not afraid of blood or death, not afraid to kill or be killed. He half wondered if she wanted the latter to happen, to save her from inevitably doing the job herself one day.

He was still smiling as they advanced, quickly, through the valley, towards him. He realized it was the first real smile to cross his face in days. He was rugged, and dirty, and his hair was going flat. But for the first time since she had been taken from him, a glimmer of hope rested on the horizon.

Jareth removed his gloves and let his power seep through and out, pushing it against that which advanced on him with such might. The tingles left his body instantly and the tension eased from his body. Taking a deep breath, he called Loki to his side, the stallion pawing the ground anxiously. The horse wanted to run, to be free of this creeping sensation across his flesh, but the King held him at bay, reassuring him that no harm would come their way. The King then mounted his beast and Loki turned of swift hooves as the two galloped to meet the oncoming army.

Dantes first felt the odd prickling across his skin as the sun fell from the sky. The moon would soon take hold, turning that blazing, bloodied horizon to an inky black thing with bits of light peeking through. He licked his lips, feeling dried out, wasted to nothing. He had managed to avoid that dark haired minx for most of the day, embarrassed at his drunkenness from the night before, but too much of a man to admit it. Running dirt-stained fingers through unwashed hair, he spat into the dirt and tried to avoid the fear that was playing along his body. Unease. There was something wrong, something so terribly wrong. He shouldn't be feeling this way. After all he was the one in control. The game pieces were all lined up in his favor. Then why this ache in his gut? Why this sinking feeling that it was all about to go horribly wrong. He closed his eyes, and saw, not blackness, but blood. He opened them again, shaking himself, anxious. He was waiting for something, but he knew not what. He had been standing on this river bank for some time, thinking, and waiting, knowing something was off.

Jareth halted Loki a mere ten feet from Morrigan herself. She raised a hand, and her army halted without a word. The Goblin King took a sharp breath, surveying the horde before him. His eyes traveled over furred heads, heads with fierce horns, heads with hair blacker than the Pool of Eternal Night. Flanking Morrigan on each side were two great cats. They stood on all fours and reached Morrigan's shoulder in height. One's fur was black, and upon closer inspection, with red patterns coursing through it. His eyes glittered gold, and as he ran a feline tongue over teeth, his prominent fangs glinted. The other's fur was whiter than the purest of snowfall. There were no markings, no discoloration to be found anywhere on his body, for he was flawless. His eyes were a fierce, glittering green, and his teeth were as sharp as his counterpart's.

Morrigan herself was a pale, gleaming vision under the now dark sky. She stared at Jareth with a confidence that came from knowing undoubtedly that you were the best. And her army was the best. He knew, as he had fought against them before. She was clad in her armor: a blackend breastplate, made for none other than her body, black leather breeches with metal plates covering her thighs, knees, and calves, and boots with a hard heel and metal toe. Her arms were also covered in plates to protect against swinging swords, and one her head, a helmet with two curved horns, tipped sharp and gleaming. In the hilt at her side hung the very sword she had taken from her father's dying body, blade now black, with a bloodstain that never washed away. Perched atop her shoulder was a black bird, raven in structure, but larger. His beak was the same silver as his talons, and his eyes held more intelligence than most humans. Although he remained completely silent, Jareth could see the thoughts behind those yellow eyes.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming." Jareth stepped cautiously towards her, keeping half his vision on her protectors. As he came close, he pretended not to hear the great cats growl in a low, menacing warning.

Morrigan flicked her wrist and they fell silent. She reached and laid a cold hand on the Goblin King's cheek. "Ah, my King, so impatient. Such beauty," she gestured with a wave to the army behind her, "takes time to assemble."

"May I walk amongst your men, so I know my comrades?" He grasped her bloodless fingers and squeezed them gently.

She pulled away and lifted her arm to invite him. The army parted, making a path. Jareth began to walk slowly, taking in the warriors around him. Many were the pale, bloodless elves of the Nightlands, separate from the Elven counterparts currently at war. They were dark in nature, and blood drinkers, for they had none of their own. Not exactly violent by nature, as they took blood only from the willing, they were excellent killers, and virtually impossible to fatally wound. There had been Dark Elves in the past, rogues, that had gone bezerk, over come by bloodlust, and had killed for it. But these were usually killed on sight by any other creature. Male and female, both were clad in black armor, ready to fight, to win.

There were lycans also, werewolves, some in full wolf form, others only half changed, so that they stood upright, but were completely furred and their heads were in wolf form. They wore no armor, to allow shape shifting freely as needed, but each carried a large, jagged sword. They were several large humanoid creatures, standing a good seven feet tall, with snarled, ape-like faces, clad in armor and carrying a variety of weapons, like battle axes, and clubs. There fanged trolls, and many a dark fairy fluttering about. There were griffins, pacing the ground and snarling at each other. Pale, vampiric centaurs, minotaurs with bloodstained horns curling from their great heads, dhampirs with weapons that shot fire, and more beasts that Jareth had no names for. He suddenly became aware of a great shift of air above his head, and the almost silent flap of great wings. As he looked up, he caught sight of eight dragons, circling above the army. Darkly scaled creatures, their beauty held his attention for sometime, and made him long for his own pigmy dragon, a childhood companion lost along the way.

He rejoined Morrigan at the head of the army. Loki stood, still keeping his distance from the beasts, nervous, pawing the dirt. Jareth mounted him. Morrigan let a shrill whistle into the crowd, and a roan mare came from the depths of the horde. Even her horse wore armor. Morrigan mounted her mare.

"Now we march?" she asked of the King.

He nodded, and led the way.

In a tent made of hides, somewhere miles away, Sarah slept, bundled in blankets. Her body rested, but her mind was alive. And as the dream took hold, and the night seeped in, she drifted further and further from reality, and it was a wonder she came back at all:

_The sky was inky black, laden with stars, something to get lost in. As she walked, she became aware that the stars were all around her, and that she walked on a winding black trail that made it's way through the stars. She places a foot to the side, and realized that if she stepped off the trail, she would indeed fall. She then became afraid, for the trail was narrow. _

"_Hello?" she called out, afraid, wanting to leave this place where the stars were all around her. _

"_What is it, my love?" came a voice, and that voice was all inky black and star laden. _

"_I am afraid," she called out._

"_Afraid? Why are you afraid?"_

"_I do not know. I do not wish to fall, and the path is narrow."_

_There was silence, and then: "Perhaps it is best to fall, for I shall catch you and we may leave this place together."_

"_I don't know if I can."_

"_I will catch you, my love."_

_So she stepped over the side, and fell slow, and the inky black pushed against her. Her garments caught the stars and tore on their jagged peaks. And then arms came around her, and she closed her eyes, and the falling stopped. _

_When she opened her eyes, she was in a great banquet hall. Gold and green tapestries hung from the walls, and the carpet was burgundy under her feet. There was music playing, soft and distant, as if in a dream separate from this one. She looked down, and the was clad in white velvet, a long dress that pooled on the floor around her feet. Gold thread ran through it. Her shoes were gold heels, dainty and delicate. A gold circlet sat upon her head, and gold bracelets wrapped up her arms. She turned, and the man with the inky black, star laden voice approached her. His hair was so blond, almost white, and he was tall, and dressed in midnight blue. He smiled, his eyes glittering, one green, the other blue. She smiled, and they embraced. _

"_My love," he sighed. _

"_You caught me."_

"_I told you I would. I promised."_

"_Thank you." Her voice was lost as he kissed her._

_His kiss was deep, and tasted sweet, like summer berries, tart at the same time. He had one hand at the small of her back as the other cradled the back of her head. Their mouths fit together as if they had been made that way, torn apart by something; two halves meeting again. Complete. Her arms wrapped around his as tightly as she could hold. And suddenly she felt it. The heart that beat next to hers ceased, and the body that held her shuddered, the grip loosening. His kiss fell away, and as she looked into his eyes, thay had gone black._

_She stepped back and he stumbled away from her. His hand grasped his stomach, and when he lifted it, there was a blossom left behind, a red blossom that grew larger, until she came to know it as blood. She reached for him, and he opened his mouth to cry out, but silence echoed from his lips. She looked down, and in hr hand was a bloody knife, a gold dagger dripping onto her white dress. She screamed. The knife was on the ground now, and hand convulsing, fingers bloody. Her lips were numb, and as she lifted a hand, they were cold to the touch. Dead. She was dying. And he was dead. The Goblin King fell to his knees. Although he was dead, he looked up at her one last time. _

_His mouth opened, tongue wetting his dead lips. "My love. You have killed yourself, and therefore killed us both." His voice was inky black, but the stars were gone. _

_She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. And she realized her voice now held all the stars, and they choked her. She fell to her knees, and then to the ground. She felt the wound in her stomach, and the blood came through her mouth, and washed out the stars. And as the blood and stars spilled out, the blood disappeared on the burgundy carpet. _

_And all that was left were the stars._

Sarah wasn't sure what pulled her from the dream, but she wasn't exactly ungrateful.

That had been, well, it had frightened her. And there was nothing from it she cared to think about ever again. She climbed to her feet and shook the blankets to the ground. She dressed quickly to avoid the awkwardness of someone barging into the tent while she stood naked. She stepped outside to greet the morning. Birds sang from the trees around her. Men laughed, fire crackled, horse neighed. These sounds had begun to comfort her. She spied Dantes by the fire, drinking black coffee from a metal cup, laughing with a comrade. She smiled. He wasn't quite as tough as he pretended to be. He caught her looking at him, and held her gaze. They stared at each other over the fire until shouts broke the calm feeling of camp. Sarah whirled as Dantes ran past her, towards the sounds of panic.

Beckin, a young warrior with a long blond pony tail, came bursting from the woods. The sheer panic, the fear, that she could see in his eyes sent chills down Sarah's spine.

"My lord!"

"What is it?" Dantes nearly collided with the boy, wrapping his arms around him to settle him down.

"The Dark Army marches this way, my lord. The Dahlian Army! Morrigan's army is coming for us!"

"How can that be?" Dantes asked, doing his best to mask the panic in his own voice.

"The King leads them! The Goblin King!"

At his words, all fear that had been threatening Sarah's gut vanished. The King was coming for her, and he was bringing such and army, one that would scare even these men. There was hope after all. But as she gazed upon the anger and fear in Dantes's eyes, she felt regret wash over her. If he had only left her alone, left her out of this, his army might've lived to see peace. But not now. Why did she care?

Sarah looked up. Dantes was looking at her. Suddenly his hands were upon her throat, her feet abandoning the ground. Sarah found that she could not breath as his hands crushed her windpipe.

"How does he know where we are?"

"I-I don't," she gasped for air, but he squeezed tighter.

"How did you get to him? How does he know where we are?"

She realized then that he thought that she had some how given the King their location. She stared up at him, blackness encroaching on her vision. She stopped trying to breath and let her body go limp. Calm stretched over her.

Bartholomew rushed from the crowd of men gathering to watch. He flew at Dantes, shaking the man until he let loose of her. Sarah fell to the ground, hard. Her vision blacked out of a moment, but as the oxygen rushed back through her blood, she regained full consciousness.

"My Lord, please. The girl has nothing to do with Jareth's march. The King has his own ways of finding you. I swear to you, she had nothing to do with it."

Dantes swallowed hard. The adrenaline rushing through him mad him lightheaded. He glanced down at the red-faced girl lying in the dirt, then whirled on his booted heel and stormed off. Bartholomew helped Sarah to her feet. She was instructed to pack up her bed roll and be ready to move again soon. She nodded, but did nothing that she was told. Her King was coming. And soon she would be free.

**Another Author's Note: Because I talk a lot. :). Okay, just wanted to say that my goal is to reach 100 reviews by Chapter 15. We're on 11, so you guys have a lot of reviewing to do! Come on! You love me, now tell me! Any ideas, suggestions, questions, all are welcome. Even if it is to tell me that I suck and should stop writing immediately. In that case, I might ignore you and send you nasty looks. Anyways, at 100 reviews , there will be quite a plot twist. As a reward to my readers. So come on, tell your friends how awesome I am. gloats. Love you all! Thanks for reading! Stay tuned! **


	12. Living Reflection from a Dream

**Chapter 12: Living Reflection From a Dream**

Sarah found herself strapped to a horse, which was in turned tied to the reins of Dantes own. She was restrained again after it was made obvious she expected to be rescued soon. She was rather glum, riding along with the panicked army, as they tried to escape the oncoming threat. Visions from her dream haunted her. The starry path, the ball room, the words he spoke. She shuddered as she remembered the blood and the screaming. Having tampered with suicide in the past, she wondered if the dream was merely a reference to the King virtually saving her from ending her life. Would he indeed die if she did?

She was roused from her thoughts as a horse rode even with hers. She looked over to see Fee. The elven woman looked at her, eyes hooded, deep in thought.

"You believe you are to be rescued?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps it is us that rescued you." With that she rode ahead, to join the leader. 

Sarah glared after her. What did that elf think she knew that Sarah did not? She new that the King was far from innocent in all his dealings, but he knew what was best for the Underground. If he didn't, he wouldn't have ruled successfully for as long as he had. She had all faith placed in him. 

Jareth shaded his eyes from the sun. He could see the smoke on the horizon of their dying fires, smothered in the quick evacuation. They were running. He smiled. He did love a good chase. 

Morrigan paced him, her hair red in the morning sun. They had ridden all night and had yet to stop. 

"King, let me ask you something."

"What is it?"

"What is it about this girl, this precious mortal that you have turned the world upside down for? Why her?"

He thought deeply for a minute, remembering their past encounter, and the courage she showed him that he had never though possible from a mortal. She was royalty, born in the wrong world. She was everything he wanted to become; brave, loving courageous, compassionate. He lived within her, and she within him.

"She is who I was born to love. She is my sunset, my morning dew. She has stolen my heart, which I have given willingly." He smiled sadly at Morrigan. "I don't expect you to understand, my dark one. One must have a pulse to love."

She frowned in thought. "I loved once. I loved you, for a brief period of my short youth. But love requires self sacrifice, and that was something I gave up when I murdered Demetrius. He took so much from me. I took everything from him in return."

"I think I loved you too. Until the day I saw you kill your father. Then all I felt was fear at the though of you. You are terrifying. But I'm not afraid of you any more."

"Good." She smiled sadly. "But I am afraid of what I see in your eyes when you speak of this girl. There is a determination. You will murder him for her, won't you." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes."

She nodded. They rode in silence. 

Dantes and his army reached the Valley of Day that evening. Sarah was agape. The entire valley was an encampment for those ready to fight. Armies from all surrounding lands had gathered. Huge colored tents covered the ground, bonfires blazed. Armed men stood at every corner, every edge. They greeted Dantes, obviously knowing him from previous battles. 

A man stepped from one of the larger tents. He was tall, very tall, and aged, with greyed hair and a beard that was white as the driven snow. He was muscular, age having no obvious affect on him other than the hair. He greeted Dantes with raised hands and a smile.

"I see you made it with your stolen army, Dantes!"

Dantes dismounted and greeted the man with a hug. "They came all on their own, Laurence, and you know it."

The men laughed, and then suddenly Laurence's attention fell on Sarah. He greeted Fee with a kiss on the hand, but never took his eyes off her. He walked solidly to wear her mare stood. She stared defiantly at him, brows arched, mouth pursed. 

"Well, well, this must be the damned mortal to have corrupted our good King." He laughed and turned to Dantes. "However did you manage to catch this one, Dantes? She is trouble, I can tell."

"Well, she has put up a good fight, but I caught her unawares on a moment of luck."

Sara glared at him over Laurence's head, which caused the older man to laugh loudly. "Well she has a fondness for you doesn't she. You always were a charmer, Dantes." The sarcasm was plain in his voice. Sarah liked him a little already. 

"Now, this is no way to treat a future queen, is it?" He reached up and began to gently untie her.

"I wouldn't do that. She kicks."

"I 'm sure." But he continued until she was untied, and help her down from the mare. 

"I'm Laurence." 

"Sarah. And thank you." She smiled at him. 

He gazed at her a moment longer. "By the gods, darling, if I was 30 years younger, I might have half a mind to steal you away myself."

"You'd have a better chance than some." Shot a look in Dantes direction. 

Laurence laughed again. "Yes, I think you and I shall get along swimmingly, child. Now come. This is not appropriate attire for one such as yourself." He tugged at the hem of her baggy shirt. Arm around her, he led her towards his tent. 

Dantes glared after them. 

Laurence pulled the tent flap aside, letting her enter his tent, following her inside. She took in the vast space, with a small fire sending smoke through a hole in the top. There were blankets and pillows of exquisite fabric scattered the floor in comfortable array. There was a beautiful woman standing at a pot hanging over the small fire, back to them.

"Rosalyn my love," his voice was soft as not to startle her.

She turned, and her long chestnut hair gleamed in the fire light. Her smile was bright, her eyes alive. "Laurie, what have you brought me?"

"This is Sarah, the mortal that has stolen our fair King's heart, and a good friend of mine. Can you find her something more appropriate to wear?"

Rosalyn smiled, but her eyes were cautious. "Of course, love." She stepped forward and gently took Sarah's hand in hers. "Leave us?" she asked him gently. 

Laurence nodded, and with a wink at Sarah, slipped out of the tent. Sarah smiled after him. 

"I have heard so very much about you. You are more beautiful than they could have described." Rosalyn led her behind a curtain towards the back of the tent, to a small dressing area. 

"Thank you. I didn't realize that so many knew about me. I didn't think I was that..."

"Important?" She laughed. "Well you are, my girl. You are the closest thing to a Queen this land has seen in many years. Many centuries in fact. It has been great news to us all."

She rummaged through several hide sacks and trunks, and finally emerged with an outfit. She then stepped outside, returning only a few seconds later with a bucket of hot soapy water. She handed Sarah a rag and the clothes and slipped out of the curtained area. 

Sarah undressed quickly. She dunked the rag in the water and scrubbed herself down. Dirt was caked on her hands and dusted across her face. There were twigs in her hair and scratches on her legs and arms. She shook her hair, slicking it a bit with the water and squeezing it dry. She pulled on the black velvet leggings, smooth on skin chapped from the long ride on horse back. The was a soft lace camisole, and over that a velvet jacket in forest green with the draping peasant sleeves and white fluffy collar. Boots of soft black suede were next. They fit her feet perfectly. She stepped out feeling better than she had in days. 

Rosalyn smiled. "You look lovely. Much better."

"I feel a hell of a lot better. I don't think I'll ever ride a horse again!" Sarah sat on a blanket by the fire as Rosalyn stirred the pot. 

"Ha, I wish I could tell you that you wouldn't have to, but I see a journey in our future."

Sarah thought about this for a while. Rosalyn to a small wooden cup and ladled hot water from a smaller pot into in, adding a small pouch. She let the pouch steep for a few minutes and then handed it to Sarah.

"Tea? It will help you sleep."

"Thank you." Sarah sipped it. 

After a while, she began to drowse. The dim light in the tent was soothing. Rosalyn was humming. She stretched out on the blanket and closed her eyes. 

_When Sarah opened her eyes, only moments later, (or so it seemed,) she was no longer lying in a tent. She was in a clearing in the forest, with sun reaching down and daisies all around her. She stood up, rubbing her eyes and looked around. She was clad in a dark green dress, that she had sworn had been a jacket. She could see a trail into the woods, and she followed it. The light dimmed the deeper in she walked, and soon she saw another clearing. There was a small cottage in the center on the clearing. The path leading up to it was lined with cherry blossoms, and the path was carpeted in pink. She was overwhelmed by the beauty. There was music flowing from the cottage, sharp and melodious. She walked under the pink trees until she reached the door. She lifted a hand, hesitated, then pushed it open. She room was empty except for a man in the middle, sitting at a harp, strumming gracefully along. She paused in the doorway, not wanting to disturb him. He seemed to know she was there, for the melody switched to something painfully familiar. She heart seemed ti swell within her chest. She began to sway. Suddenly the blond fae stepped away from the instrument and came swiftly to her. The music continued though his fingers had abandoned the strings. _

"_Dance with me my love?"_

"_I'm afraid I don't remember how."_

_But he caught her up in his strong arms and guided her around the room. She gazed up and into his eyes, and it was then that things began to feel wrong. His eyes were dark, completely black. There was nothing alive about him at all. His hands, she realized, were cold._

"_My love?" he leaned in, whispering in her ear._

"_Yes?" Her heart was pounding. _

_He leaned in eve closer. "I'm as good as dead."_

_She gasped and pulled away, yanking from his grasp. His vacant eyes were wicked, consuming. She bit back a scream in her throat, backing away. She had to get away from him._

"_What's the matter, Sarah? Don't you want to be a Queen? Live forever? That's what you have always wanted, right?" he was coming at her. _

_Sarah turned to run, but bone thin fingers encircled her wrist._

"_Kiss me, my love. I'm so cold..."_

_She screamed. _

She awoke screaming. When she opened her eyes, Rosalyn was standing at the far end of the tent, fear plain in her eyes. Sarah sat up, her screaming having ceased, wiping her mouth. She looked at the woman and gave her a sheepish smile.

"Bad dream?"

"You have no idea."Sarah didn't know what to think as she climbed to her feet. But she did know one thing: these dreams were not her own.

Some one was placing them inside her head. She shuddered. 

"Sorry I scared you." And she stepped out into the dark.

There was a large bonfire towards the center of camp, and it drew her like a moth. She knew she would find Dantes there, but she went anyways. The men were drinking rum, and the stench hung in the air. She wrinkled her nose She could see Dantes and Laurence around the far edge of the fire, sitting together on a fallen log some one had rolled into camp. They spoke in hushed tones, not audible at all over the yells of drunken soldiers. They were very intent. She had the sudden desire to know what they spoke of, having the feeling it pertained to her in some way or another. 

She crept along the outskirts of the fire, keeping to the shadows. She reached the tent closest to where they sat. Crouching down, she scooted closer until she could make out their voices over those around her. 

"And you're sure that the King marches with the Dark Army?" Laurence asked, eyes wide in the dark.

"Yes. Positive. A few of the men saw them. And it only makes since, consdiering his own army refuses to fight their kin." Dantes scratched at the stubble on his chin. The facial hair made him look older, rugged.

"And what of the girl?"

"What about her? She serves her purpose. She is bate, that's all."

Laurence cocked his head and studied his friend in the orange light. "I'm afraid I know you better than that."

"I haven't laid a hand on her."

"Only because she'd take it right off you wrist if you did!" Laurence laughed. 

Dantes shook his head. "I find he rather obnoxious."

Laurence patted his companion on the back. "Just be careful. She'll take your hand, but the King will have your head."

They fell silent, faces serious. Sarah grew bored waiting for them to resume, and slipped away. 

The forest outside the camp was dark, but she wasn't afraid. She walked quietly, save for the twigs underfoot. The moon bit at her through the trees. She wondered deeper. The sounds of camp grew more and more distant, and she stopped suddenly. It was then that she realized that, right now, she could run and they wouldn't know until morning. She felt the urge crawl up her legs, itching to run, to stretch across the ground. 

She took a breath, and darted quickly into the trees, swift as a deer. She ran with all her might, heart heaving in her chest, wind racing past her, eyes watering. She flung one leg after the other, feet pounding on the ground. Suddenly a shape flew from the trees at her right. Sarah had no time to think as she hit the ground, with the form on top of her, holding her down. She struggled, but then delicate fingers caught her wrists, pinning her.

She stared in shock into Fee's angry eyes. The elven woman stood, yanking her to her feet. "What the hell do you think you are doing?"

Sarah spat blood, having bit her tongue on the fall. "What does it fucking look like?" she snarled. 

Fee smacked her, hard, across the cheek. "You ungrateful cur. You have no idea how kind we have been to you. You have no idea how cruel wee can be."

"Like I haven't heard that before." Sarah muttered under her breath. 

"That's enough, Fee."

The two women turned to the figure cast in moon glow. Dantes stepped towards them. Fee let go of Sarah's arm. She stormed off through the trees. 

Sarah glared at the man, daring him to grab her as the elf had. But he stood motionless. Finally, he broke the silence.

"I understand that you want to run. I know that you have no reason to believe in this cause, in this war. But, Sarah, if we don't fight this war, then the next time, they won't hesitate to strike us first, take us unawares. Kill your King, kill our people, kill you even. I know you hate me, but I am only doing what I feel is right."

"I know. But what does this have to do with me?"

He stepped closer. "The King has no reason to listen to me. If I can provide a reason, meaning you, then he has to see me and fight with me. If not, the only way to get around him is to kill him. And I have never been keen on mutiny." 

She pondered this for a moment. He had a point. Jareth was stubborn, and once he thought he was right, no one could change his mind. Sarah looked at the man standing before her, cast in shadow. Her eyes grazed over his torn clothes, unkempt hair, unshaven face . His eyes were pleading.

"Why do you care what I think anyways?" She asked.

"Because you think I'm a monster. And I'm not." He stepped closer. She fought the urge to back away from him. 

"I don't think you're a monster. A barbarian, yes, but not a monster."

He laughed, and she found that the sound of his happiness pleased her. _But why do I care if he is happy or not? _She shook the thoughts from her head. She wondered briefly if she could catch him by surprise and out run him. _But where would I even go?_

Suddenly she looked up and he was right before her, so close his breath could be detected on her cheek. She looked up at him, and he looked wild under the moon light. His hand came up, and for a brief moment, she thought he would smack her. She flinched, but caught her breath as his hand gently traced across her cheek. She stared up at him, wide eyed. 

"So very lovely." His hand traced along down her neck and fell away. She didn't know she had closed her eyes until she opened them. "So very alone."

Sarah blinked. The blood rushed away from her upper body, and feeling light-headed and dizzy, she put a hand on his arm to steady herself. Her eyes drifted up to meet his again, and she felt her heart pound, frantic to bring the blood, the sense back to her brain. _You love the King._ And she did. But as Dantes lowered his mouth to hers, she didn't pull away. His lips were soft, timid, as if afraid of her response. She kissed him back, and then the severity whirled through her and she panicked. Shoving him away with a cry, she turned to run. 

Dantes's hand enclosed around her wrist. He yanked her to him, and she landed hard against her chest. He clasped both of her wrists against his chest in one hand, the other wrapped around the small of her back. His mouth crushed hers, his teeth closing on her lip. She cried out again, and struggled, but found herself kissing him back. His grip loosened and she pulled away again. He grabbed her, shoving her violently against a tree. Pinning her, he kissed her again, and she let him. She knew she could fight back, but she didn't.

His hand was on her chest, shoving her back. It moved to her throat and held her by it, just hard enough to keep her there without strangling her. 

She opened her eyes to meet his. His grip tightend slightly. 

"Tell me to stop and I will."

When she said nothing, he kissed her again. Her hand came up, digging her nails into his back, drawing blood. He made a small noise but didn't fight it. She let her head loll to the side, so that he could kiss her neck, and then sank her teeth into the soft spot on his shoulder. He howled, and shoved her hard by her throat. 

Her heart was pounding, and Sarah hadn't even had time to grasp the situation. She struggled, feeling excitement and fear. She liked the violence, she realized suddenly. Violence ad always been a negative part in her life, but sexually, it was doing the trick. She shifted as Dantes bite at her throat, and felt him hard against her thigh. It was then that realization came over her, and she shoved him off. He came at her again, thinking this was part of the game. She held up her hands and shifted from the tree, backing away.

"No more." And then she turned and ran.

Her heart felt like war hammer against the inside of her chest. She found it ironic that she now ran to the camp for safety. She stumbled on and upturned root, literally falling into the camp. As she picked herself up, cheeks red, ego only slightly bruised, she saw the feet of some one standing over her. She stiffened, recognizing Fee's boots. She stood slowly, cautiously eyeing the elf. Her fist clenched instinctually.

"Where is my tent?" she asked after few moments. She couldn't take those bottomless eyes taking her in, and all she wanted was to crawl into her bedroll and never come out.

Fee pointed over her shoulder, to the left. Sarah recognized Dantes's tent, with a smaller, yet spacious one pitched next to it. She nodded in thanks and walked away. 

Her tent was tall enough to stand up comfortably in, being square, more like a room made of hide than a tent. Nothing like the camping tents her parents made use of every summer. A small fire crackled in the center, smoke escaping a space in the ceiling. She spread out her bed roll and gathered some extra blankets from the pile in the corner. After creating something much like a nest, she settled in and pulled the blankets over her head. She dozed off.

Sarah awoke a few hours later to hushed voices outside her tent. Her fire had dwindled, and the tent was dark. She could see the moon peeking through the curtain over the door. Figures were illuminated by an outside fire, standing between her tent and Dantes's. She strained to listen. It was apparent the topic of conversation.

"I can't believe you would be so stupid." The female voice was high in irritation. She knew it was Fee.

"Shhh, there is no need to worry. She is still necessity, and it will never happen again. Momentary lapse of reason." Dantes had a soothing tone in his voice.

"And what of the King. If he is to know, he will kill you. Make no mistake, Dantes. He is good to her, but he is a cruel and merciless man. And jealously only feeds such traits. You know this."

"He will no nothing. Besides a dead King causes no one harm."

"I thought we had agreed not to harm him. I thought I made you realize that to talk is better. There is no need for anymore death."

"He will decide his own fate. If he refuses this war, I will do as I see fit." 

Sarah's breath caught in her throat. What had happened to his dislike for mutiny? He had said he wished the king no harm, hadn't he? Fear crept through her, twisting it's jagged path into the pit of her stomach, choking around her heart. Adrenaline coursed her veins as she realized she had to warn Jareth. She had to escape. 

There was an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. Where there had once been confidence in his plan, Jareth now felt uneasy. Sarah was in trouble. He felt it as clearly as if she had told him herself. She was afraid. That knowledge resounded through him, a bitter reminder that he could not help her. The army had finally laid camp, being further now than they had originally thought from the Valley of Day. He stood on the outskirts of the circle of tents, silhouetted against the bonfire flames. He began to walk, silently, towards the woods, leaving the small clearing. His boots crunched twigs, and the ground underfoot was dark and twisted with roots. The trees were so dense that he nearly lost sight of the sky completely. The traveled until he came to the river. Kneeling down, he cupped his hands and sipped the crystal water. 

Sarah waited until the figures parted, disappearing into separate tents. Counting to ten, she slipped quietly out, glancing around. Once in the wood, she made a beeline for the river. It was the only guideline she had for this place. If she followed that, she was sure to find someone. Stumbling and tripping over roots and stumps, she landed on the river back bruised and scraped. Quite exhausted, she collapsed onto her knees and dove her hands into the cool water, bringing it to her lips. 

Suddenly, a blinding white light crossed Jareth's vision, pain shooting through his skull. His hands fell to the ground, but his arms gave and he rolled forward into the rushing water. Choking as the water filled his lungs, he struggled for the surface. Thoughts screamed through his brain. _He's going to kill you! He is bringing war! You have to stop him! You have to kill him before he kills you! _Hands on flesh, hands clawing skin, teeth grazing lips. Fear, desire, hunger, hate. Feelings, visions, voices, all rushed through and over him, twisting and snarling until he couldn't tell if he what was drowning him. 

As soon as the water hit her lips, Sarah felt as if something was being ripped from her guts. She clutched a hand to her stomach, tipping forward. She coughed, head spinning, her thoughts like barbed wire curled in her brain that had began to unravel. She screamed and fell into the river. Water engulfed her, blackness pulling her down. She flailed her arms, scrambling for the surface. She surfaced, choking and spitting water. She struggled forward and clawed her way onto the bank. Collapsing, she closed her eyes. 

The pain subsided, visions fading. All that surrounded him was water. Jareth swam to the bank, climbing out of the water and sitting on grass, panting. He ran his fingers through his wet hair, water streaming down his face. He stripped off his wet shirt, throwing it aside. His gloved were next, soggy and useless until they were dry. His hair slicked back, bare from the waste up, he looked nothing like the King he was. He flexed his fingers and placed is hands, palms down, in the grass. His fingers burrowed until he felt the soft dirt beneath. He closed his eyes until the light came to him. Not the blinding light of before, but a soft light, one that he controlled. He opened the eyes in his mind, the eyes that saw what was not easily seen. He hurried through the small actions of the woods, the lives of rodents and bugs, the deer that brought her fauns to drink at the river. He passed over the ground, feeling for energy larger than that, deeper. And then he found her, lying on the bank several miles down, unconscious, but alive. Relief sang through him. He knew she sent him those images, those feelings. So Dantes thought he would kill the Goblin King? Jareth pulled his fingers from the dirt, from the life around him, and closed those eyes that saw so much. He opened his eyes, a smile crossing his lips. Dantes was a fool. An elf in hiding, disguising his features with fae glamour. Jareth would kill him before he even knew the fight had begun. 

His thoughts turned to Sarah. She was tormented by dreams that were not hers, not one's he shared with her. Some one else was planting those dreams. No matter. He would send her dreams tonight, to block out the others that might try to enter her mind. He would give her dreams that she would remember fondly, wistfully. He lifted his hand, letting it drift from side to side until a crystal appeared. He blew gently across it's gleaming surface until it rose into the air. Suddenly there were two crystals dancing in the air, then three. He directed them with a wave of his hand, and they followed the breeze along the river until they settled on the sleeping girl. With a smile, the Goblin King stood, walking back towards camp. She would be safe until morning.

_The hallway was long and dark, but not the ominous kind of dark one might expect to find in an unknown hallway. It was the kind of dark that cradled you, made you feel safe and bundled up, the way crawling into bed with mom and dad made you feel after a nightmare. And it was warm, not the cold, dank, dripping dark that made you think of being trapped outside in a storm at night. It was this kind of dark hallway that Sarah walked slowly down. _

_She knew she was going some where important, but exactly why and where she did not know. She wondered on until she reached the end of the hall, at which there was a large wooden door with a big gold knocker. She paused, for there was no door knob, but then a certain familiarity came about the situation, and she reached up and grasped the knocker. It was cool to the touch, smooth. She wrapped her long fingers around it and lifted, letting it fall against the door with an echo. Once, twice, and the door opened. _

_She stepped out, for all she could see was soft white, and the cold that curled in was all she could feel. She stepped into the snow, which fell softly, quietly. She looked down, glad to be clad in a long, thick velvet cape, deep red with a fur lined hood. She pulled this up over her head. Her boots were shiny and black, and the garments under the cape were black as well. There were trees around her, not the overly tall, dense trees that made you uneasy and lost, but the trees that welcomed you with spacious paths and light. This was the kind of forest that was never dark. It was daylight, but everything was dim as the snow fell. Sarah could make out a figure walking towards her through the white curtain._

_She smiled. Jareth walked to her and took her hand, smiling down at her. _

"_You are safe. I am coming for you. He will not hurt you, or I." His words filled her with reassurance. _

"_Where are we?"_

"_Where do you want us to be?"_

"_Right here."_

_He leaned in, his lips hovering above her's as he let warm breath sigh over them. She closed her eyes and he kissed her. _

_She was suddenly filled with panic. Pulling away, she stared into his eyes. "I'm so scared. You have to come for me. Come for me now. He's going to kill you, us. I don't want to go back. Don't make me go back!"_

_He pulled her too him, grasping her tight. "Shhh. Shhh. Hush my love. Everything will be alright." He stroked the back of her head, her hair glossy under his bare hand._

_He paused, looking down at his own, impossibly long pale fingers. Bare hand? Gloveless? His brow knitted, he stared in confusion for a moment before blinking and shaking his head. He pushed the thoughts away._

"_I want to stay here, in this, with you." Her voice sounded far off, dreamy, almost slurred. _

_He looked down at her, and there were stars in her eyes, and she seemed to be wilting. "Sarah?" He shook her gently. "Sarah, no, stay with me. Don't drift away Sarah! This will be over soon, and we can go back to the lake." Her head lolled to one side. He shook her again, holding her by the shoulders. "Sarah, dammit, no, I will not let you let go that easily. Do not give up!" _

_He hated to end what he had wanted to be a pleasant dream, but he raised his hand, and with a sharp flick of the wrist, cast her out of the dream. It was akin to shoving someone through a door, into a wall. He hated to do it, but she was letting go, letting the dream take her. She was weakening, and if she slipped to far into the dream willingly, she would never wake up. Sarah fell back, away from him, and was gone. _

There were voices overhead, and the light was bright. She blinked, once, twice, opening 

her eyes, then closing them again. She raised a hand to cover her face groggily, feeling disoriented, having no idea where she was. 

"When did se escape?"

"Had to have been some time longer after the camp went to bed. Early morning, before the sun."

"Do you suppose she heard what Fee and I spoke of last night?"

"I'm sure of it. She was trying to warn him. I wonder why she only got this far."

Laurence and Dantes. She recognized them even in her haze. Memories of the night before came back to her, and she groaned, eyes still closed.

The men paused, and she could feel them looking at her. 

"She's coming to. Better get her back to camp." Laurence suggested.

"Yes." Dantes lifted her, one arm under her shoulders, the other under her knees. 

Sarah let her self hang limply for fear that if she let them know she was awake, they might not say anything else she needed to know. 

"What are you going to do?" Laurence asked as the tracked through the woods. "We march today. We'll reach the Elven lands by next sunrise if we travel through the night, as I intend. Will you wait here for the King?"

"I do not know." And they were silent.


	13. What Dreams May Come

_**Disclaimer:**__** This story is purely for entertainment, and I receive no monetary gain from this project. I do not own the Labyrinth.**_

_**Duh!**_

_**A/N: Okay, okay after this chapter, I'm done with dream sequences for a while, I swear!! Yes, I have been guilty of a bit of D.S. over kill, so sue me. If your still reading, then it must not be such a bad thing. Haha. Anyways, here ya'll go. Sorry it took so long, as usual!**_

_**Chapter 13: What Dreams May Come...**_

Jareth stormed through camp, anger radiating off him like electricity. Sparks flew as his feet collided with the ground. There was so much fury that creatures came from their tents, feeding off the negative energy, trembling in fear and anticipation. A dark elf stepped from his dwelling, tongue tasting the air, flicking from his mouth, letting the essence roll over him. Jareth passed them all, unseeing, leaving the vile things to shudder in his quake.

It was her tent he sought, the largest in the camp, surrounded by the smaller tents of her guards. He dodged between these and barged through the curtain. Morrigan looked up, barely having time to drop the object in her hand before his was around her throat and she was hanging in the air. Jareth's face was twisted in anger, snarling, fangs exposed. The black, sharply angled crystal lay in the dirt and ash, Sarah's sleeping face fading from it. He let out a cry of rage, which alerted her guards. Staggering and stumbling over each other, the six ogre sized men rush in. Gagging, eyes bulging, Morrigan held up a hand. They paused, weapons poised, ready to bring him down.

"What in _bloody hell_ do you think you are doing?" He pushed his power against her skin full force.

Morrigan's head fell back, teeth bared in pain and hate. She brought her clawed hands up, power slamming back against his. He let go, dropping her into the ash from her dead fire. Gasping, he stepped back, only to shove his power, hot to the touch with hatred, as she stood up. Hers was nails of ice through his aura, blinding and cold. His head spun, his hatred boiled, and his mind stretched far to grasp for something more.

Stepping back from her again, he raised his sense, letting it roll over the camp, over the surrounding woods. Something within him seemed to crack open, releasing something ancient and unused for centuries. He breathed in, deep, lungs swelling, and he felt his mind breath in too, as it began to pull power. He withdrew power from the dark souls around them, from the simple wood land creatures, whose power meant survival. He thought of his Kingdom, and pulled the lazy, curdled power of it's goblin dwellers. He had opened something deep within him self, a side of his power that he hated. He was a feeder, a power-parasite. This ability he had kept dormant for most of his life, thinking it disgusting and evil, something below even his own cruel nature. It was akin to vampirism, something he detested. He had never needed it before now, never really. But her art was dark and so his must be as well. These creatures he stole from, they would recover. The army would feel fatigue for a night, the forest animals would sleep until dawn. His Kingdom would wonder in confusion until the sun crept over the hills, and they would resume their merry drink and antics.

And this, this swell that he brought at her, this tsunami of power, this could have killed her. Had Morrigan been any less dark than she was, her life would have slipped away. It didn't kill her, but it did bring her down. Jareth unleashed it with a snarling cry, feet far apart, bracing himself. Morrigan threw a shield, but the surge bowled into her before she could blink. She howled, flying back, landing in the dirt again. A stillness fell about the tent. The Goblin King stood, exhausted, drained of all feasible retaliation if she were to get up again. Morrigan's guards stood, glances darting from their mistress to the man they had been instructed not to kill. And Morrigan herself lay unmoving, eyes closed.

Her eyes suddenly flicked open, the air expelled from her lungs in a defeated moan. She brought her elbows in, preparing to push herself up. In an instant, Jareth was above her, a foot firmly planted on her chest. Her ebony eyes flicked to his in surprise. There was something in them, and it didn't read defeat, it read subdued. He glared at her. Then slowly, foot still crushing her sternum, he bent down until his face was close to hers.

"Touch her again, in any way, and next time...I'll kill you."

He turned on swift heel, snatching her black crystal from the dirt as he left the tent.

"M'lady?"

Morrigan lay still, unmoving, eyes closed. Her idiot guards still stood in the doorway. The Goblin King was gone in a swirl of anger and temporary victory. The was a whooshing sound, and Cain flew in, his blackish blue wings stretching as he soared towards her. Morrigan's eyes shot open and her hand went up. Cain perched on her wrist, large talons gently digging in. Lifting her head, she whispered to her black bird.

"Follow him. I'll need you later."

Cain cocked his head in question. She flicked her wrist and her let go, pulling him self into the air. And he was gone.

His rage was still rolling through him, like a black tide washing back and forth over his soul. The Goblin King rode through the woods, leaving behind a smoldering, torrid smell. Loki was tense, feeling his master's anger as if it were his own. The black crystal was still clutched in his left hand. Morrigan had been conjuring dreams for Sarah, crawling inside her head and twisting the feelings of doubt and dark that already resided there. Her crystal was similar to his, only dark in nature. It was black, with a purple sheen in the sunlight, and jagged, with multiple facets, whereas his were perfectly cylindrical. How dare she try to sabotage him. How dare she put him in a situation where he was forced to use that disgusting power of his. Jareth shook himself, feeling unclean, used up, guilty.

The afternoon sun was hidden behind the trees, leaving the woods in a burnt orange glow. He ducked his blonde head to avoid a low-slung branch. He could hear the river before he reached it. Returning to the same bank, his dismounted and untied the pack from Loki's back. In less than 20 minutes his small but decent tent was pitched. He knelt to prepare the wood for a small fire, who's flames he conjured. He was the Goblin King, after all.

Evening was rolling in. They would surround the Valley camp at the following dusk, and wipe the whole lot out before they could even march on the Elven lands. As soon as Dantes's blood soaked the dirt, he would be rid of the Dark Army and that horrid creature. Jareth sat, warming his cool skin by the fire, head tilted back to watch the sky. The breeze carried past the river, running it's smooth fingers through his hair, making him shiver as it traced over his face. Slowly, the stars appeared, twinkling at him from their great heights. Night covered the landscape in her ebony blanket. All around him, forest creatures settled for slumber as the night dwellers came out. Unease found it's way into his chest. Jareth stood. Loki lifted his head, giving a soft sound in question. Lifting his hand in reassurance, Jareth walked to the rivers edge and knelt. He cautiously cupped his hand and brought the water to his lips. When he was sure, he rolled it over his tongue like wine, tasting it.

Nodding, he stood, turning back to his tent. She hadn't been back to the river since she'd pulled herself from it. That meant she hadn't tried to escape again. This both relieved and worried him. If Sarah hadn't escaped, she wasn't roaming the woods alone and lost. However, if she hadn't tried to escape again, it was possible she had been harmed in some way and was unable to. He bared his teeth in anger at the thought of Dantes laying a hand on her. If he found her injured in anyway when he retrieved her on tomorrow's moon, he would follow Dantes's soul to the Neverworld and kill him again.

As the Goblin King retired to his tent, Loki sampled the air, lifting his majestic head. Something in the air made his hair stand on end, his nostrils flare. It was something he couldn't quite pinpoint. Something spicy, something troublesome. All the same, he lowered his head into the grass and closed his eyes. He would be here to protect when that trouble came.

In the dark, moments before her power left her body, Morrigan conjured a crystal. It's jagged beauty comforted her as it's solid weight filled her hand. Something from nothing. Soon, she would be nothing, when she had once been something. Funny how things worked out. She rubbed the crystal with her thumb, feeling the faint, dizzy feeling of the oncoming detachment. Opening her hand, the crystal became weightless, to hover along the air, awaiting her command. She closed her eyes and, with all the energy left in her body, she guided it to her desired purpose. As the blackened jewel drifted into the night, Morrigan felt the power swell and pull and leave her body. The blackness that seemed to evaporate into the air was almost her entire being. When it became too great, it would consume her entirely. And then it would expire, like all things too great, and there would be nothing left. Not soul, nothing. She closed her eyes.

That night, the Goblin King dreamed. But these were not dreams of his own mind. No, these dreams were someone else's. A message:

_The woods was dank and moist, cast in a blue tinge with the oncoming dusk. He walked, dressed in black from collar to boot, through the deepening woods. There was something waiting for him, just beyond those trees. _

_He smelled the smoke before he saw it's source. He stepped through the last of the pines, brushing low branches from his path. There was a cave, dark and ominous, opening up at the base of a steep incline that now lay before him. The smoke that curled it's way towards him was rich and acrid, leaving a cloying taste at the back of his throat. He covered his mouth with a gloved hand and surveyed dark mouth before him. The breeze shifted, changing direction, and he glanced over his shoulder in puzzlement. It was then that he felt it, the first slithering sensation over his skin. He turned back to the cave, and felt the slow but persistent current across his body. Although there were no words spoken, he knew he was being beckoned into that cave. As clearly as if someone had called his name, they were calling him into the cave._

_He reached out, not with his hands, but with the same part of him that felt that call, and grasped at it before it could whisper back into the cave. It was as if a hand had grabbed another hand, and he gripped tightly, tasting the being behind the call. When a familiar dark taste hit hus senses, he let go in disgust. She was there, waiting for him. He wanted to kill her, nothing more. But the call was persistent, and with a sigh, he stepped into the cave._

_The air was cool against the Goblin King's skin. He stepped lightly, quietly, leaving no footprints. It was dark, pitch black, far beyond anything a human would be able to adjust to. But his keen Fae eyes picked up the cracks and crevices of the stone around him. And, up ahead some where, a light. It was dim, but it was there. He advanced toward it, still light but quick. Finally, the passageway opened up, and he came face to face with Morrigan._

_She stood, large rod in her hand as she stirred the charred black cauldron before her. The smoke, although rich and clinging before, was now thick and black. She shuddered in her red and black ragged cloak, raising her hand above the pot. She unclutched her fist, letting the blood from a wound in her palm drip into the smoking mix. He could see the abnormal darkness of the liquid as it dripped from her skin. She closed her eyes and gasped, and the Goblin King shivered against the swell of power. When she opened her eyes again, they met his with a blazing intensity, daring and savage. _

_Uncomfortable at her animal-like passion for the art of black magic, he snarled: "Why have you called me here, heathen?"_

_At this she laughed. "Your highness, it is you that wage war against the men of your kingdom, not I. So one must examine one's accusations before placing the name of heathen."_

"_Answer the question."_

_Her expression soured. "So quick to lay the blame on others, my lord."_

"_Cease the nonsensical chatter, Morrigan, and get to the bloody point."_

"_I was not the one who sent those dreams to your beloved, Jareth. Yet you would have killed_ _me for the mere possession of a crystal. You are too quick to assume, and it will cost you this war and your Queen if you do not listen to me." Her chest heaved. The energy in the room twanged, the intensity heightened. _

"_What are you talking about? If you didn't send Sarah those dreams, who did?" He wasn't set to believe her right away, but since he was already here, might as well hear her out. _

_She took a deep breath._ _Energy flowed from and around her. Morrigan submerged her hands into the smoking liquid below her. The words that came from her lips were barely audible, and in a language so ancient it made their world seem young. Jareth's mind scrambled to untangle the meaning, but the words came and left so quickly, and his skills were rusty that the only thing he caught was 'witch.'_

_Suddenly, the liquid began to bubble and froth, spilling over the sides. Morrigan cried out and began to pull at something in the liquid. Hands wound deep in a tangled mass, she tugged, pulling something up. Jareth stared in confusion and she pulled what appeared to be a blonde head from the cauldron. The hair was matted and gnarled, and her hand fiercely tangled within it. The blonde mess hid any face from view, and as she pulled harder, and the shoulders appeared, he could make out a rose colored dress, ragged and unraveling, clinging to the body._

"_Gwendolyn!" He said with a gasp. _

_With great relief, Morrigan let go. The body slid away, back down into the cauldron. The smoking ceased. In fact, the entire pot now appeared to be empty. Morrigan looked at him, her kohl-rimmed eyes piercing, accusing. _

"_I apologize," was all he could say._

_She shook her head. "I will win this battle for you, but that doesn't change the fact that war is a threat now. And if not now, then someday. I worry, Jareth, that you will make the same mistake my parents did."_

_He cocked his head to the side, the whole dream suddenly becoming real. "And that would be?"_

"_My father was a foolish King, believing that, while war is a part of life, that most wish to live in peace. And that he could make that a reality for his people. But the truth is, Goblin King, there are evil things, things that don't believe in peace, that don't believe in anything other than blood, and pain, and death. They believe that death is the only thing that tells us we are alive. They see immortality as a curse, because things are sweeter when they are fleeting. So they kill, they maim, they wage wars for no given reason."_

_She stepped around the cauldron, advancing towards him. Jareth held at bay they urge to back up. _

"_These are the kind of creatures, Jareth, that raised me. These are the creatures that taught me." She seemed to hiss these last words. _

_This time, he did back away, but not in fear. There was something beneath her eyes, her skin, something waiting. Whatever it was, it was waiting for him._ _Waiting to... He turned away._

"_I think we're done here." His voice was solemn. _

"_You can't run forever."_

"_Forever is not that long..." he said softly. _

_He moved quickly, boots thudding on the dirt as he ran from the cave. As he progressed down the tunnel, things around him began to fade, darken, vanish. He felt as if he were falling._

And then he woke up.

Loki stirred as his master did. Lifting his great dark head, the stallion sampled the morning air. The King had dreamed, and they hadn't been dreams of the natural kind. Inside the small tent, Jareth's eyes shot open. He silently cursed Morrigan as her pulled his loose shirt over his head. He crawled from the tent, standing, hair carried aloft by the breeze. It was early, the sun on the horizon fresh. But something wasn't quite right. While the morning sun usually brought the Underground golden and rosy hues, this particular morning brought a spill of blood across the distant hills. This wasn't the glowing red of an evening sun, this was blood red light thrown into the sky as the sun awoke. This was the morning of a great war; natures way for foreshadowing the pain that her children were about to bring upon each other.

Jareth shifted as Loki came to stand beside his King. He brought his hand up to rest on Loki's neck, his fingers stroking the velvet fur. Loki butted his nose against the King's shoulder. Jareth gave a low, amused laugh.

"Oh, my friend, my fine friend. What have I done?"

_**A/N Again: And now the fun begins. That's right kids, the long awaited, overly built up battle chapter!! NO this doesn't mean that the story is almost over (though I sure some of you are wishing I'd just put a bullet in it's head and end it's suffering.) In fact, it's probably only half over. OK, maybe more than half. I don't know, I'm rambling. If you are still reading, then you are a special as I am. Anyways, it might take a little longer than usual to get Chapter 14 out, simply because I am a girl and am lost on how to write a war scene. I mean, there's 'rough draft,' shall we say, but it's weak. **_

_**If any one has any tips on goodies for battle scenes, I's love to hear 'em! Ask around! Seriously, I want it action packed and juicy! Yum!**_

_**Stay tuned!**_

_**And thank you to a the reviewers of my last chapter: Miru88, notwritten, futrCSI1490; as well as all of you who have reviewed in the past! And thanks to those who have been favoriting the story lately as well, but please, review too!! Much love! **_


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